Damned & Divine - Death Series 3
by SongOfStars
Summary: It has been several years of hiding since being exposed. But when an ancient terror stalks the land, Sherlock & John return for their most horrific case yet. As told by John. (Kind of a coat-tail thing lol but Sherlock/Irene will appear.)
1. Chapter 1

**Damned & Divine**

(Death Series 3)

**Disclaimers: **I own absolutely EVERYTHING! MWAHAHA (Huh, I wish!)

**AN: **Ok ok ok. Some of you have been asking for more & I realised that there's a couple of things I haven't even cleared up in the first 2 parts, so here is ONE more sequel. The first is _**Dance With Death**_ & the second is an optional one-shot _**Irene's Choice**_; though if you're going to read this third sequel here, you might want to know what her choice is & why. Irene will be here in part 3 as well.

This is mostly a 'coat-tail' kind of sequel. Like I say, I wasn't planning on writing more but since people have asked, I tried. But writing something without planning much isn't the same feeling, so be warned. There IS a great Sherlock/Irene scene as well as a John/Mary scene in here which I find is most important since that was the topic most requested for. So yeah …I'm just saying, it isn't my brightest. Hey, I tried LOL

**Summary: **It has been several years of hiding since being exposed. But when an ancient terror stalks the land, Sherlock & John return for their most horrific case yet. As told by John.

**Damned & Divine**

**(1) Invasion**

In case any of you need to guess, this is me. Uh huh. Running wildly for my life. As usual. It's a recent video some moron filmed of me.

(The twenty seconds of video filmed on a shaky camera showed Dr. John Watson running wildly for his life from something that looked like a super-sandstorm. It was the most recent thing posted on the doctor's blog.)

Well I say recent. Yes, I know I haven't updated in a few months. I've been busy. As you can see. The problem is, many years ago, I met this guy.

(A random picture of Sherlock Holmes)

Now, as many of you know, that guy (arrow pointing up to picture) is crazy. He's eccentric. His way or the highway. Demands people listen to him. Has an annoying habit of proving people wrong with the simplest of things. Some can consider him a rather cold person. Upto about ten years ago, no one knew just how cold. Oh yeah! He's a vampire on top of it all.

For nearly fifteen years, I've been shot at, threatened, strapped to a bomb & if that wasn't enough, I soon found out about his vampirism. Oh I'm a werewolf as well. Go figure! But did that stop him from getting me into trouble? No, if anything, it made things worse.

His sister hates me to this day. Both his elder brothers have threatened to bite me several times (Vampire & Lycan bites kill the other.) & his late brother Mycroft was the last survivor of Titanic.

Anyway, still wondering about that sand monster I'm running away from? Guess what? It's all this guy's fault!

(Another random picture of Sherlock, this time with fangs bared in a hiss.)

As usual. Snarky fellow isn't he? Things just went to a whole new level of weird when that family 'came out' as vampires & I discovered my own curse. See since I met this guy—

(A picture of Sherlock standing on the edge of the roof when he went into hiding for three years, making everyone think he was dead, which, technically he was.)

—I have been living on the edge ever since. I thought the war was full of surprises. Thanks to that guy I also became acquainted with the fabled Merlin & then we found out a horror which led me to the Sahara Desert. It was this guy's—

(Sherlock picture posted.)

—big bright idea. Yes I know about the great unexplained crater where that Sahara Desert used to be. In case you haven't figured it out by now, that's actually the Sahara Desert I'm fleeing from, but wait I'm getting way to far ahead of myself. It all started a few months ago with several unexplained murders in London.

_Three months ago:_

"I said now, Derek!" I glared gold at my ten year old son.

"But Pa—!" Derek suddenly yipped as I actually bared my pointed teeth & growled. The boy fled.

"NO HONEYCOMB!" I shouted at Derek's retreating back. I sighed & turned back to the kitchen.

"John, be nice to the puppies," Mary said as she came down the stairs, putting on her coat. I just growled under breath. Mary ignored it. "Your sister's going to be here any minute. I'll see you in a few hours."

I actually laughed. "When we first met, you were so wild you'd pick a fight with anyone daring to use the sidewalk."

Mary licked the left side of her chops. "Who's saying I don't do that anymore? This is still my territory. Only the family's allowed here."

I shook my head at her. "Have fun & try not to bite anyone."

"See you tonight," Mary came up to me & made as if to kiss me, only to snatch the jar of honeycomb out of my hand & flee. I growled but she was already gone.

After locating my young bitch Jessica, who had been hiding under the back porch, I put the twins to bed, then headed downstairs to the living room where my tea was waiting near the laptop. I stepped on two pieces of Lego & something that squeaked. It made me growl so viciously that my one & only companion left to me, Gladstone an old Dalmatian, fled down the hall. Whatever! I kicked the offensive toys aside.

After Micah de LaCie had exposed vampires to the whole world ten years ago by burning Sherlock's little sister, Enola on a cross, both vampires & werewolves had retreated into remote areas. I had married Mary Morstan & we along with the twins, Derek & Jessica, had kept to ourselves in Mary's old Cardiff home as it was in the countryside & set well back from the road. The numerous trees on all sides kept it virtually hidden.

While it was our main home, we would often stay at the Holmes Castle, not just for full moons. The castle had the history of the Holmes family painted on its walls from before the time of Christ through to the Titanic. One of Sherlock's older brothers was the true last survivor of that ship, but Micah had turned Mycroft to a pile of ash with one thrust of his wing. The only good thing that day was not only rescuing Enola, but also curing her of the dread disease of vampirism due to a lost once & only cure found on no less than the blade Excalibur itself, Merlin's own sword fashioned from one of his wing ridges. Merlin was quite possibly the oldest known vampire in the world, being nearly seven thousand years old.

I had reacted badly to finding out the Watsons were werewolves with a dormant gene that could be activated under the right conditions. Against my own wishes, I had been activated by Micah & my first full moon had nearly killed me. Now, the only thing that got me through full moons was my pack under Sherlock & Sherrinford's care. The Watson pack ran with the Grant pack over the castle grounds. The Grants were treating me better by now but between full moons, I tried to stay as human as possible, of course, assuming my pups didn't drive me mad.

Werewolf pups & human children were different. The pups acted far more wolfish than human regardless of the time of month & I had 'gone wolf' on them more than once. I liked having the pups around & both my sisters as well as the surviving Holmes considered me to be a great father—or as Sherlock put it: amusing. I only wished to retain my humanity as much as possible. But teaching humanity to pups with a higher degree of active Lycanthropy genes then myself was next to impossible.

I sipped some tea, staring at my old blogs. I had kept them going erratically, saying mostly that Sherlock & I were safe. There was one or two places were an entire year had gone by between posts. The questions had poured in, ranging anywhere from 'Are you really a vampire/werewolf?' to 'Now I'm going to have to marry Sherlock since John's taken.' It took most of my willpower to retaliate with 'Sherlock is taken to.' But I split hairs on it. Sherlock was indeed taken but which woman had true claim on him? His dead wife from thousands of years ago when everyone was still human or Irene Adler? I personally prefer the dead one since Miss Adler & I don't get along too well.

I lay back in my chair, listening to the fire crackle. Gladstone had finally returned & was now stretched out across the hearth. Mary, Harriet & Clara had gone for a girls' night out so here I was watching over the twins & the old dog. The only light was from the fire & the laptop screen.

I started in my chair. I had nodded off but a distant wailing sound had woken me. I got up to go close any open windows before the wind knocked anything over, but saw headlights coming up the drive. Opening the door, I noticed it was a clear night & the trees were no longer moving. I most likely slept through the gusts & silently hoped it wasn't as strong as it sounded since I was sure some windows were open.

Mary jumped up the steps with near-feline grace & handed over a muffin to me, then waved away Harriet & Clara before going inside. I followed hot on her heels. "Mmm, too bad this didn't come a bit sooner. Would have gone well with the tea."

"Better late than never," Mary teased.

I shrugged, finishing off the muffin. "So how was the night?"

"It was great," Mary headed for our bedroom & began to change. I followed her. "Though I'd take the country over London any day. It's big & crowded."

"Most cities like that are," I smiled.

"You know, there were at least four or five different places with either cops or ambulances," Mary went on. "I know at least two of them had to do with murder."

"Crime rate has gone up since Sherlock & I had to leave," I sighed. "Is Lestrade still around?"

"I don't know," Mary shrugged. "Perhaps you two should get back to working."

"I don't know," I said. "With the pups, there's enough work. Besides, Mrs. Hudson died a few years ago & that old apartment building is torn down."

"Well London sure is a mess without the two of you," Mary said.

"Sherlock warned that the world could descend into anarchy if we're not careful," I pointed out.

"Exactly," Mary headed for the hall. "I'm just going to check on them. I'll be right back."

"I've got some windows to close," I said. "I was woken up by strong wind just before you showed up."

"Really?" Mary paused in the door. "It must have past just before I got home. I wish I would pick up again. It's rather muggy out." With a short whine, she headed for the twins' bedrooms.

I went around the house to close the windows. Fortunately nothing had been blown over or broken in the first gale. We were both finally in bed, with Mary coiled along my right side already fast asleep from her rare night out. Slowly but surely, the Watsons were taming her.

The next morning, I was awakened earlier than usual by a persistent mobile ringing. It was Sherlock.

"John I think they're on the move again," he began. "It's been a while but I'm sure they're heading in your direction. I've already sent Sherrinford to pick you & your pack up."

I yawned widely & licked my chops. "Sherlock. Who's they?"

"Haven't you been paying attention to the news?" Sherlock complained.

"No," I turned my face to nip my mate on the nose.

"John, you may be in trouble," Sherlock went on. "Be ready. Sherrinford should be there any moment."

"Alright," I sat up. "I'm out of bed. Though I must say, the worst we've had here is a little windstorm." I got up as Mary stretched catlike under the covers.

After a long moment in which nothing could be heard from Sherlock's end but clicks on a keyboard, Sherlock suddenly said, "There was no wind. So they're already passing through. John, stay on the phone until Sherrinford gets to you. I've already sent him a message. If you see anything out of the ordinary, do not approach it."

I was halfway down the stairs by now. "Sherlock," I began as I opened the door into the parlour. There I stopped.

Something out of the ordinary indeed. I stared at the thing. A tall man—well I say man for lack of a better term at this particular moment in time—stood in the middle of the mahogany polished floor. He had to be around eight feet so it was a good thing this old house had high ceilings.

His back was toward me as he swayed like a tree in a breeze from side to side. His hair was lank & sickly & hung down to the small of his back. He was naked & his skin was a dark grey-nearly-black & looked stretched over his skeleton frame. He literally was skin & bones. Suddenly the sound I heard last night that I thought was whistling wind came out of that man. I stepped back quietly & closed the door.

"John, I heard that," Sherlock whispered over the phone. "Be very careful."

"I have it trapped in the parlour," I whispered back. "What in the hell is it?"

"A zombie."


	2. Chapter 2

**(2) Retreat & Reflect**

Still wondering why I blame this guy—

(Another random Sherlock picture)

—for everything? A zombie. An actually zombie! In my house. Oh yeah! Sherlock's the one who exposed me to this 'otherworld' in the first place. You know, I was fine, doing cases for Lestrade—human cases—seeing London in a new light & always wondering what Mycroft would be upto next.

Anyway, back to the zombie.

I backed away slowly to the stairs where Mary was stepping off the last one. "Go back up there," I whispered. "Get the twins & get outside the back." Mary looked at me with a golden gaze. "There's something bad in our parlour. Go out back & find Sherrinford."

As Mary retreated, I heard the car come up the drive. I ran up the stairs, phone still pressed to my ear, followed Mary to the nursery & helped them all outside by going through the window & jumping to the ground. It was only one level & it was very easy for a werewolf. I had Gladstone in my arms as I landed lightly on the ground. She still growled at me for shaking her around. We hurried around to the black limo & got in. I hung up on Sherlock the moment we were locked inside the car & Sherrinford had started rolling it backwards.

That confused me. "Sherrinford," I glanced back to the house. "Aren't you going to destroy it?"

"If you know how, let me know," Sherrinford straightened the brim of his black cowboy hat & swished his should-length dark brown pony-tail over his shoulder as he looked back into the curve as he reversed the car all the way onto the street & in the right direction.

I stared at him for several minutes through the open window between the front end of the car & the center piece. "Are you asking me to believe that a zombie can not be destroyed?"

"No," Sherrinford said. "I'm asking you to believe that there is no KNOWN way to destroy a zombie. We're still looking."

Stunned, I sat back in my seat. Mary whined & pressed up against my side while our twins went back to sleep on their own seat shared with Harriet & Clara in the back of the car. Mary soon moved to the other seat facing us to be with the pups while I turned on my mobile & texted Sherlock for any info on zombies. While Sherrinford drove us to the ancient castle, I read through everything Sherlock sent me.

The earliest record of zombies was from around 4400 years ago. Unknown if they existed before that, though likely.

There were exactly eight thousand seven hundred eighty-four zombies in the world. Now it's one less. Most are in Britain. A few are in North America along the eastern coast (one hundred seventy-eight) while an even smaller handful were spread sporadically through out the other continents.

The number of zombies have not increased, but they have decreased by one & only one. They kill humans, werewolves & other life-forms without hesitation. Extremely fast, once caught in their sight, they will charge in for the kill at an alarming speed.

Being caught in their sight is literal. Never make eye-contact with a zombie or you will be unable to move while they come for you.

Vampires are the only ones immune. In fact, zombies seem to hate vampires like nothing else but are unable to even touch them. It is unknown why but obviously it is because we are both born of death.

Zombies have no known language but they do communicate with each other with howls, clicks & whistles.

The migrations are random & disorderly. Each time they go to a new place. It is not based upon weather patterns or any kind of pattern.

There is no known way to destroy a zombie. It is better to get out of their way when they are on the move. The problem is knowing when they will move next & where they will go. For the most part, zombies are reclusive creatures.

There is a group of vampires known as Death's Hand which try to round up & capture the zombies to lock them away. They have rid other continents & countries of the creatures, including Australia, South & Central America, Korea, to name a few. Death's Hand has a cemetery strictly for burying captured zombies in a box laced with the hardest substances on earth, a mix of diamond & vampire ridges, many of which are given by members of Death's Hand. Painful & brutal work, but necessary. Zombies can chew & tear their way out of almost everything.

I sighed after pouring through the information for a long time. Coming from Sherlock, it was amazingly not much. If he didn't know, who could?

As we turned into the long winding drive leading up to the castle, I received another text from Sherlock.

The zombie in my house was captured by Death's Hand but until the migration of the creatures was over, it was best to not return home. Another zombie was soon spotted in Cardiff & Death's Hand was currently tracking it down.

I asked if Sherlock was a member but apparently it was too mundane to chase zombies, since years—indeed centuries—could pass in between sightings. Enola & Mycroft however, were part of it.

A moment went by, then my mobile dinged once more. I read the last text, then growled. Enola would be at the castle as well, since she was no longer vampire & had no defence anymore.

Great. This'll be fun.

We reached the castle a few moments later. The grounds were in full late spring bloom. Peacocks strutted angrily about, hating all the completion from the colourful wisterias, lilacs, tulips & hundreds of other flowers in a virtual remake of the Garden of Eden. Destriers whickered from the open meadowland & honeybees buzzed in the air.

My twins soon spotted Enola on the front porch, sitting on the swing dressed in a royal blue princess dress. Unlike myself, my pups got along with Enola just fine. In fact, she was probably their favorite in the family.

"John."

"Enola."

That was it. Our way of acknowledging each other & no more.

As Mary went with everyone else into the castle, I turned aside & headed to the museum. Inside was a collection of history, from the first car ever built to actual mail worn by Knights Of The Round Table to a crucifix nail from the right-hand of Christ.

Beside that nail was a trapdoor opening to a stairwell that led to a smaller room where my ancestors had kept a few things of their own. It was mostly a collection of diaries, even a couple of scrolls too old to be cracked open. The earliest ones were in a language I didn't know. Ingvaeonic no doubt.

I finally found some readable stuff dating from the early 1100's but it was a good thing I had liked Shakespeare growing up. The old English was hard to read, worse than the original King James Bible. That one at least was more legible. But still, I muddled through. I was mostly skimming anyway, looking for anything remotely related to zombies.

Jacob Grant was right though. The Watson pack used to be a force to be reckoned with. Now it was reduced to four wolves, two of which were pups. To top it off, we were as they say in Harry Potter, mudbloods. Mary is probably the one with the most wolf blood out of all of us.

I was standing in a town in the early dawn. If it weren't for the blood on me, I'd say I was naked, having cast off the night before for the full moon but there was so much blood, one wouldn't notice. The bodies of men, women & children lay around me, ripped apart. This village had killed my family. It was only natural that I returned the favor.

Only one woman stood up to me. I couldn't really see or smell her but I could hear her.

"John. John!"

My world was shaking.

"JOHN! WILL YOU PLEASE WAKE UP!"

Ouch! Bloody bitch bit me. Wait. I opened my eyes & unstuck my face from the pages of the diary. I looked meekly up into Mary's face.

"Finally," Mary huffed. "We were looking for you everywhere. You've been gone all night!"

I glanced around. "Sorry," I mumbled, yawning widely. "L-lost track of the time."

"What are you doing down here?"

"I'm looking for anything on zombies," I shrugged, cracking a shoulder blade back into place. "This den below the museum used to belong to Watson weres before me." I looked down on the diary before me. It was from a bitch of over a thousand years ago. I noticed with a small shiver that the page was stained in blood. Instinct told me that she had written this bit right after that massacre without even washing off. While I understood why she went crazy—I could never imagine what I'd do if someone harmed my two pups—I wished my family history wasn't stained with this dark story. I closed the book before Mary had a chance to read any of it.

"Did you imprint anything?"

I shook my head. "I learned how to control that a couple years ago. Merlin helped me."

"Is there anything about zombies here?"

I stood up & patted areas of the room with my hands, probing softly with my imprinting power but recoiling it when I sensed nothing of value. Looking at Mary, I finally shook my head. "Mary, if Sherlock himself doesn't know, we're all in trouble." I flexed my arms a bit, recalling old imprints. Titanic, Sherlock's parents at stake, a Lamborghini that had nearly twelve murders committed in the back of it until Sherlock caught the killer who was a werewolf feeding off humans. I had picked up several imprints over the years but finally sought Merlin's help when while helping Sherlock on another vampire-related case, I accidently picked up an ancient iron rod about fifteen feet long (it used to be around twenty five) lying under an old house where a few dead bodies had been buried. The pole was from centuries before & used for execution by public impalement. It actually had history from the Waldensiens. England was such a brutal country back then. I decided enough was enough so I asked Merlin to find a way to remove unwanted imprints. So far, I wanted to keep only Titanic, something from Mary's mother & for Sherlock's sake, his parents. The rest I neither needed or wanted.

Of course, that's now on the back burner. Merlin is the leader of Death's Hand & has more pressing matters at the moment. So that rules out my next plan, asking Merlin, the oldest of all vampires, what to do about them.

Mary tugged on my hand. "Let's get back to the castle." I nodded & followed silently, swiping the blood-diary & sticking it into my pocket as I passed.

Sherlock sat in the bar room basement in the second room where we had first met after his three-year absence. Fingertips pressed together under his chin, he stared straight ahead as I sat down in front of him. "I've been with Lestrade these past few days."

I stared in surprise. "How is he?"

"Fine," Sherlock shrugged it off. I knew it was all I would get coming from him. "There have been a few murders in London, all of which by the zombies passing through. Merlin has sent his best agents of Death's Hand to round them up."

"Any idea where they're going this time?" I asked.

"They seem to slow down around Reading," Sherlock replied. "They're coming up out of Dartmoor. Before that, the main clan was in Scotland."

"Very random," I mused. "The only similarity I see is that it's all British."

"Hmm," was all Sherlock uttered.

"Have you found anything else?"

"I don't usually work zombie cases unless it directly involves people," Sherlock said. "Like those murders in London." He leaned back on the lounge to rub his back against its support. It was almost as if he was itching to cut his wings but thought better of it. Instead he finally reached forward to pick up his goblet filled with blood & drank half of it. "No, it isn't for me. This is Merlin's problem & up to the Death's Hand to catch them all."

"If it's been roughly five thousand years, how come it's taken them so long to bring all the zombies down?"

"Once they reach their destination," Sherlock began. "They don't usually remain visible. They can fade away into history & we lose track of them. Until they move once more."

"As if they're drawn to something," I happened to blurt out.

Sherlock stared at me, half-surprised half are-you-kidding-me. "Perhaps. Another reason is that wherever they used to be may have become too full of vampires for their comfort & so they move away to a less vampire-dense area. Zombies can't stand us for some reason."

"Probably Death Hand's fault," I laughed a little.

"Exactly," Sherlock tossed me a clump of honeycomb which I caught with my mouth as it came flying through the air. "I'm mostly concerned about the zombies where it affects my family & my wolves. Beyond that, unless it involves unexplained murders like the past few days, there isn't much I could do. It's a 5000 year old case, if not more & it takes to long to work out. A clue here & there every century or so," Sherlock shook his head. "I've only seen zombies four times in my life. One of them was healed & lived a human life."

"HEALED?" I gasped. "There's a cure?"

"No," Sherlock nearly glared red at me. "Honestly John. Have you forgotten? I walked with Christ."

I stared. "Where in any Bible is that?"

"No where," Sherlock said. "Unless you count Saint Paul's statement that Christ did many more things after Resurrection & before Ascension."

I facepalmed with a groan. "Why didn't someone write that history out?"

"Who knows," Sherlock shrugged. "Anyhow, that was an exception to the rule. The point is, we're stuck with the rest of them now."

"If He could heal one, why not all?"

Sherlock shrugged again. "His ways are never our ways, so He says."

"You seem the most unlikely man to be religious," I said.

"I'm not," Sherlock defended. "I despise religion. It's nothing but organised brainwashing. He doesn't like it either."

"True," I recalled more than one incident of Christ versus Pharisees & what-have-you's. "Yet both our families are old enough that we still retain our Catholicism despite being in this Protestant country."

"Both are just as bad as the other," Sherlock muttered. "Let them fight & kill each other off. It isn't my problem."

I burst out laughing. "How Christian of you." Sherlock hissed so loudly, a picture frame on the wall rattled. I merely laughed more.

"Fine, I'll just take away the honeycomb," Sherlock threatened.

"Hey I have a wife now," I began.

Sherlock groaned. "Over-rated."

I glared yellow. "She can find & give me all the honeycomb I want. When I want. Where..." Then I added in a sly voice. "...& how."

"Right. I'm out!" Sherlock got up & strode through the archway into the main bar room & headed for the stairs. I rolled around on the floor, barking out another laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

**(3) Reading**

We stayed at the castle for nearly a week since the full moon was coming up anyway. Mary & I stayed in my old room at the castle with the Ancestral Watson were-pack painted on the walls & the twins were just down the hall.

When it was clear that Cardiff was zombie-free & had been for a while, I went back alone, insisting that the Watson pack stay at the castle for just a while longer. The clan was indeed moving on to Reading & had stopped just outside its borders. Death's Hand had caught & buried a few more, but zombies had an annoying habit of not showing up all at once. A few would drift in from time to time & if they were missed, then they could easily hide in the area & not be seen again. Hide how though, I can not say at this time.

I stepped into my home late in the evening to find the parlour in shambles from the struggle of the Death's Hand catching the zombie. At least, the monster was gone. I straightened a few things out. But an idea that had been nagging me since this whole thing started continued to bug me. Finally I gave up. Gave in. I had wanted to see Merlin before now & finally, I decided to go.

Only problem was, he lived in Reading. If I could survive getting to his home before a zombie caught me, I would be fine. The area had been evacuated on account of a 'possible gas explosion that may be imminent' thanks to Anthea working her Secret Service magic for us but I knew Merlin was still there. One, he was a vampire & had nothing to fear & two, he said so when I had called him to casually ask if he was still in Reading.

So I went to Reading, dodging signs that said do not enter & skirting about guards of vampires at the edges. I once over-heard Abraham's booming Jamaican accent yelling at some sorry sod & figured it all out right then & there. Abraham was most likely the reason zombies hated vampires. I mean, everybody hated Abraham. He's rude. Uncouth. Demanding. Perfectionist. Hey. Sounds just like someone I know.

('NO NO NO! AN ACTUAL VAMPIRE BAT HAS MORE SENSE THAN YOU! USELESS! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE A VAMPIRE! YOU FREAKIN' BLOODY IDIOT!')

Anyway—

('DO I LOOK STUPID TO YOU? COME HERE! I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO TURN TO ASH OVER! COME! _**HERE!**_')

—Merlin's house.

I reached the door only to have a vampire swoop down beside me. For one horrid moment, I was terrified it was Abraham & wondered what stupid thing he'd rave at me about. Was my tie out of place by a millimetre or were my fangs to small? Too big? Then I saw who landed next to me. Sherlock sheaved his wings & glared red at me. "What are you doing here...wolf?" he put extra emphasis on the word to needlessly remind me that werewolves can be killed quite easily by zombies.

"I was going to talk to Merlin."

"So was I."

"Well I got here first!" I groused.

"First shall be last & the last first."

"Ohh! OH! Using Christ's words against me! Low LOW blow!" I growled. Sherlock grinned short & evil for a moment. Cheeky bastard! "How dare you?"

We probably would have battled it out with words on the spot but right then & there, the door opened & the old wizard that didn't look anything close to his age beckoned us both inside. I noticed with a dark mood that Sherlock somehow ended up inside first, looking smug. Ok. It's ok. The situation can now be reversed. Just wait you creepy old bat! I slunk in after, proverbial tail between my legs.

Merlin offered Sherlock a glass of blood & handed a tin of honeycomb to me. After pouring out his own drink, he sat down on a box. It was then that I noticed. There were a lot of boxes. It was almost as if he was moving. "Are you going somewhere?" I asked.

"Mhm," Merlin sighed sadly. "I must."

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"I've been discovered."

"We all have," Sherlock said. "Everyone knows about vampires now."

Merlin shook his head. "That isn't what I meant. I have to leave. Now before anyone else gets hurt."

Sherlock glanced to the floor for a moment. "You have killed humans for blood."

"No," Merlin defended. "It's been many millennia since I have committed an atrocity like that. No, it's something else. Personal."

"What about this shift of zombies?" I asked. "Aren't you trying to catch them?"

"I will continue to operate the Death's Hand, don't worry," Merlin said. "I just can't live here anymore."

"I had come to ask about Death's Hand," Sherlock said. "We can only keep people waiting for so long. Soon, they'll notice that no explosion has happened."

"I know," Merlin said. "They'll be able to return soon enough." He stood up & opened an old chest. He pulled out something long wrapped in a white sheet & handed it to me. "Hang on to her Watson. She may help you in this." I didn't need to pull back the sheet to know I had Excalibur back in my hands.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

Merlin shook his head, keeping his back toward Sherlock & me as he rearranged things in the chest before closing it. "Only one thing on this planet can know where I go next."

I stared at his back then shared a glanced with Sherlock before saying to Merlin, "You know something."

"I know many things," Merlin muttered cryptically. "I've seen far too much." He finally turned to face us. "Just leave it alone."

I glared at him. "At least tell us what you know."

Merlin sighed & actually growled long & low. "They're after me. I must leave. They'll leave. This time I'm making sure they'll see me go so I'll be followed since this is a well-populated place. Then I'll try to lose them again for as long as possible."

"Who?" I demanded. I looked to Sherlock for help, but he was busy tapping away on his mobile which was about as bad as him being in his Mind Palace when we all needed him out in the real world at this precise moment in time. "Merlin, if someone's targeting you, perhaps we could help."

"No one can help with this," Sherlock put down his mobile & glared red at Merlin who merely cast his eyes to the floor.

"Your vampire is right, good wolf," Merlin said. "Listen to him. Leave, both of you. Soon this will all be over."

I noticed Sherlock doing his Scan over everything. He was missing something & instinct told me we wouldn't be leaving until he found it. "Sherlock?"

Instead of answering me directly, Sherlock focused on Merlin once more. "Why? Is it your age? Why you & not the other vampires?"

Sherlock was asking questions. That meant one of two things. He already knew but was giving the culprit a chance to confess or he was very close to knowing & was giving the culprit a chance to slip up.

"Would you leave it alone, Will?" Merlin used the first name. I never know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. It depends on who says it how & when.

"If it's you they want," Sherlock began.

I was almost going to ask who 'they' was, but then, I knew. Zombies. "Why would a zombie want a vampire? They hate your kind."

"With good reason!" Merlin snarled through gritted fangs. I must say here & now, Merlin is scary with his fangs bared! Sherlock & I both actually took a step back.

Sherlock turned to me. "I've checked the last few areas zombies have moved to. Merlin was in all of them at that time. They're following him."

I glanced between the two vampires before asking Merlin, "What are you, vampire or zombie? Or…or a mix?"

"I am vampire," Merlin hissed softly. "But a sorcerer first."

"Meaning what?" Sherlock asked.

"What have you done?" I demanded.

Merlin punched the table he was leaning on. "Oh William. Arthur! Why do you torture me with such questions? Why do you care? There's a reason the Israelites wrote in their old scrolls that sorcerers should be killed. It's because of me. It was an accident but what else could I do?"

After a quick glance at Sherlock, I jumped. There was only one time before when I saw him so mad. When we had confronted Moriarty in the hotel room, only to be told that he was a hired actor named Richard Brook. Then suddenly, I understood. "My God man! You're responsible for the zombies as well? I thought you said! YOU TOLD US! You never attempted to resurrect your wife again!"

"It has nothing to do with my wife."

"Then what then?"

"It was about saving the rest of humanity!" Merlin slapped his hand on the table & cut his wings. They were pure gold & I wonder to this day if they had actual gold on them. "Think man. THINK! How old am I?"

"Around seven thousand."

"What happened about five thousand years ago?" Merlin went on. "Something that has confused everyone both creationist & evolutionist. Something they all agree on in some way or another."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I wasn't there."

"Oh but you can read about it," Merlin hissed. "Ancient paintings in caves. Ancient Egyptian texts. Genesis of the Bible. Aztec & Mayan stories. Even Native Indian stories of America. Nearly every culture speaks of it. The Chinese symbol for 8 is made by combining people & boat together. Go figure!"

I stared at him; though, my side-vision told me that Sherlock was even more mad, if possible, than ever I had seen him before. He had figured something out & I was nearly there. "Eight. You mean Noah's Ark? That's an allegory!"

Merlin burst out laughing. Cold. Cruel. "If it's such an allegory then why does every culture speak of it? Why are there great clams on top of Mount Everest? Why are scientists these days starting to agree that a global or nearly-global flood happened at some point in time? Why do all the fossils & Dinosaurs revolve around water particularly salt? A saline solution ages things in it you know. In a few years people will probably say the Titanic is millions of years old just because the salt screws up the dating."

"That still doesn't explain how you created zombies while NOT trying to resurrect your wife!" I actually stamped my right foot like an upset wee rabbit.

"Oh doesn't it John?" Sherlock finally spoke, his voice low but clear. A bad sign. "No wonder Christ never healed them all. The Deluge was to destroy the wicked. A zombie is the most cruel thing on earth. You are fortunate not to have met one face to face yet." Sherlock then glared at Merlin. "Exactly how did you do it? There's allegedly only eight on that ark & vampires can't reproduce. Obviously you are not of that family."

"Because of my powers & my age," Merlin said. "I'm the only one who can do this." At that, he transformed into a large bat. When he reappeared in human form, he went on. "I learned to do that when I was around three thousand years old, just before that great flood. I literally hung around in the rafters of that ship as another bat. No one noticed. But it took all my strength not to feed on them or any one else. A family of eight humans & only parent species of animals was all that was left. How could I destroy that? Especially after creating the dread vampirism before this."

"So you fed on those destroyed in the Great Deluge," Sherlock deduced. "To spare the living."

"Only to create a worse horror than before," Merlin sighed before going on. "A bite of a vampire on living flesh, turns them into a vampire. But that boat floated about for just over a year. I had nothing. I drained dead over-salted blood. It was the worst feeding I've ever done but what else could I do?"

"So biting something already dead," I started but couldn't finish.

Merlin nodded. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know!"

"No wonder zombies hate us," Sherlock took a few steps back, glancing to the door. "Can't touch us either. They ARE us. Only worse. They've been stripped of reason. Of life & of death & they were supposed to die in their evil deeds to begin with."

We stood in silence for several minutes, absorbing the shock. I finally managed to ask, "Can they be killed?"

Merlin actually wiped his eyes with one hand, then shook his head. "I don't know. I've been trying since this started to figure that out." Then he looked straight at me. "But I honestly do not think so. Only God Himself."

"Yeah, but something went wrong, didn't it?" I accused. "You ruined everything. Destroyed the plan!

"Those people back then, were beasts already," Merlin began. "They tortured each other. Wreaked havoc. They had gone mad! Even the children were terrible. Even today we have children going around with rifles twice their height, committing atrocities of war & brutality, but they're gentle lambs compared to what I've seen back then."

"That doesn't make it any better," I retorted. "If it was their destiny to die & spare the rest of humanity, it's no wonder the zombies are cruel as it is!"

"I know!"

We stared each other down. I swallowed dryly & finally said in a hoarse whisper as if my throat was soar, "You're the devil." Sherlock glanced at me but I ignored him. "First you create vampirism, then this. I know. It was an accident both times. But was it really? If you hadn't meddled in the beginning, vampirism would never have come about & you'd be dead long before that flood. None of this would have happened!" My own fangs now gritted so hard it hurt, I snarled out, "What sort of monster are you?"

"John," Sherlock shushed me as Merlin flinched at my last out burst, his golden wings rising high before dropping sadly behind him.

"Leave him be William," Merlin said. "He's right."

Another awkward silence past. Then Sherlock suddenly said, "There might yet be a way."

"What?" Merlin & I asked at once.

"You're the only one who can do it," Sherlock went on without explanation. "Of course. You're old enough. Perhaps they have the answer but you're the only one who can speak to them."

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" Merlin ground out & I knew I was officially lost in the conversation. "Are you out of your vampric mind?" Ah, someone else seems to be a Star Trek fan. "No!" It was Merlin's turn to step back. "You're insane."

"Am I?" Sherlock countered. "I didn't create the Vampire or the Zombie race. Now that's insanity!"

"You leave those beasts alone!" Merlin demanded.

"So...so we're not going to try destroying zombies?" I had to ask.

"We're not speaking of zombies but of something far older than even Merlin himself!" Sherlock hushed me with that one statement. I shut up. I knew I was lost. "Besides Merlin, after all you've done, consider it your way of atoning."

"If they disagree Holmes!" Merlin glared. "Do you understand what they'll do to this planet?"

"At least it will take care of the zombie situation," Sherlock derided.

"What is it?" I tried again.

Sherlock turned back to me. "Only idiots think dinosaurs are extinct. Sure, many were killed in the Great Deluge & by the meteor. Both happened. But a few survived just the same."

"Thanks to Noah?" I muttered somewhat sarcastically.

"No need for him with half the animals of the planet," Sherlock said. "Those that lived in the water & in the ground didn't care."

"Dinosaurs?" I echoed. "Alive?"

"Have you never heard of Nessie? Or her Canadian mate Ogopogo?"

"The Loch Ness Mons...Sherlock that's a hoax!" I said it hoping it was a hoax but in that instant, I knew they were not.

Sherlock scoffed at me. "What do you think moves all that ice around in the north & south polar icecaps? What causes glaciers to move? It's actually dragon's breath. Those ones live in the ice, unlike Nessie & Ogogogo who are water dragons. Leviathans in other words."

"Wait wait, wait a minute," I was lost & confused once more. "Back the Ark of Noah up a moment. How can Nessie, who's over here & Ogopogo who, for one thing I've never heard of & for another you say, Canada, be mates if they're that far apart?"

"They live underground," Sherlock said. "Even under the water in the ground below, there are tunnels & passageways for them criss-cross literally through the Earth. It can take them a few hours to cross what once long ago took us days before modern technology took over."

"Let me guess," I suddenly thought of something. "These dragons, dinosaurs, are responsible for the tectonic plates moving about under the sea."

"Very good John, yes," Sherlock nodded.

"Ho boy!" I couldn't fathom what I was hearing. But wait, it get's better.

"So which one should we go talk to?" Merlin asked. "Nessie? Glaciérae up north?"

"What? The northern ice dragon isn't named Santa Clause?" I teased.

Sherlock & Merlin both looked at me. "Alright that one is a myth." Merlin said.

"Sorry John, there is no Santa Clause."

"Not true," John said. "Saint Nick lived about a hundred years ago. The original Santa. But the one on the Coke truck is definitely not real."

"Good point," Sherlock shrugged. "But I doubt the Leviathans or the Glaciers can help us. I was thinking more along the lines of the Behemoths."

"Now I KNOW you're an idiot!" Merlin glared.

Insulted, Sherlock glared right back. "Sahara is the only one that can move fast on land as she is a land dwelling dragon. Land dragons can fly as well. Also she's the oldest. If any of the dragons know something, it would be from the Behemoths, namely Sahara."

"Did you just say Sahara?" I stared in surprise. No wonder those sand dunes moved & hummed. If a great dinosaur was living underneath, it would explain a lot.


	4. Chapter 4

**(4) Rage Of The Ancient  
**

At that moment, the floorboards between Merlin & us creaked & then broke apart. A zombie was rising out of the hole. Merlin vaulted over the hole & landed in front of me. The zombie stood to its full height & stepped up onto the edge of the hole. It chuckled low & hollow & if I never hear that sound again, I'll still have nightmares for the rest of my life. The monstrosity stood there, staring at Merlin. I peered out cautiously from under Merlin's wing but the zombie didn't care about me. It continued to stare at Merlin, as if waiting for something.

Since it was not looking at me (it didn't even notice me), I used my side-vision to see as much of the thing as possible. From what I could see, its eyes, for lack of a better term, seemed to be two dull silver orbs sunk inside its skull-face. The teeth were black & gumless. Two large sabers curled slightly from the top jaw over its lipless dark grey & black maw that seemed permanently stretched open. It had two smaller bottom fangs as well, each about half the size of the saber-tooth that curled over it. No wonder the thing killed quickly, with those teeth.

With their wings, Merlin & Sherlock ensconced me round-about & then backed up through the door. Even though it probably wasn't the time, I realised with a smug joy that I was first out. I was also first to get into the car; though, I was in the back even though it was my car but I understood why. I had to keep my head down so as not to accidently make eye contact with the zombie who had followed us out. Sherlock took the driver's seat with Merlin beside him. As I ducked my head down to lie across the back seat, I just barely caught glimpses of the ground giving way in several areas around the front yard as more zombies began to rise straight up from the earth.

"So what are we doing, exactly?" I asked after almost half an hour of silent driving.

"Going to the estate," Sherlock said. "We'll use one of Mycroft's own helicopters. Enola kept them. We're going to the Sahara Dragon."

"Not desert."

"Same thing," Sherlock said.

"I know that," I muttered. "So it was just called a desert to keep the common human unaware." After Sherlock nodded, I went on. "What will Sahara do?"

"Most likely roast us to death with her breath," Merlin grumbled. After a moment he went on. "Dragons, any kind of dragon, are the only creatures left that speak Origin, besides myself."

"Origin?"

"It used to be that we all spoke one language," Merlin explained. "You can read it in several different cultures. Bible says Tower of Babel. That event anyway. Before that event, we were all one. But when humans split, at that tower & through the split of Pangaea, they all developed different languages & what we all originally spoke was lost. Except for myself & the dragons."

"Can Nessie & Og...Oh...that Canadian Leviathan," I said. "Can they speak it to?"

"All dragons," Merlin nodded. "I'm going to try to ask Sahara for her help. But let it be known that this is against my better judgement."

"Why?" I prompted when Merlin had remained silent for several minutes. Sherlock concentrated on driving & I worried he might slip into his confounded Mind Palace while at the wheel. Sure, they're vampires. They don't care. But I'm a living mutt. I want to live a bit longer please, thank you!

"Because," Merlin huffed. "When the rains began & the Deluge rose to cover Earth, the dragons declared war on the human race & that includes vampires as well. We are technically human with a dread disease. It's all the same to a dragon. They blamed us for everything. The atrocities the human race caused, including my own folly, angered the dragons & they swore to annihilate us if we ever disturbed them again. Then they sunk under the ground or into the watery depths & were not affected much by the destruction of the Deluge. The Great Divide though, killed many. That happened about two hundred years later. The Deluge had created chaos on the land. Great air-pockets underneath the land mass from where the water had shot up from the ground. The continent groaned & wailed for a couple of centuries. It eventually caused the Divide into the Earth we see today with its seven continents & oceans. That destroyed many dragons who had fled under both ground & ocean only to get ripped apart by the Divide."

"Hence all the dinosaur fossils."

Merlin nodded. "Precious few survived. They will not have forgotten. They'll be madder than before."

"We hope the dragons will know what to do about the zombies," Sherlock put in. "They may have stayed under us but the zombies also move under ground. I think Sahara is the best choice since she's oldest."

"You're hoping she'll understand our plight as well as remember that humans weren't always bad," I deduced.

"Exactly," Sherlock said.

So, there you have it. I have followed my friend faithfully through hell & high water. I thought us canine folk are supposed to be man's best friends. Why on Earth am I hanging out with a vampire? Anyway, that's how I ended up running away from this.

(A link to the video was posted again.)

Figured I should raise it up so it wouldn't get buried again. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah.

We took a helicopter, piloted by Sherlock, to the great Sahara desert & landed on a hilltop near its northern edge. The three of us got out & went down the hill. Though we were on the outskirts of this mighty desert, it was hot as hell & now that I know exactly what this desert is, I'm wondering if it probably is hell.

Merlin whispered something in a language I do not know but I'm guessing Origin. Then he called out across the desert & I realised he had enchanted his voice to go so loud that it could not be heard by most ears. My wolfish sense sort of picked it up as a buzzing which irritated me despite my attempts to concentrate on something else.

Merlin turned to us & whispered in a regular voice, "Get ready to run." He turned back to the shifting sands. "But I doubt you can hide."

After a few moments without anything happening, a loud booming sound split the sky. I yipped in spite of myself. Sherlock leaned into my side & raised one wing to cover over my head as if protecting me. I appreciated the gesture but, dude seriously, this is a dragon we're summoning!

Another mighty boom & then, the desert erupted in flames! We stepped back, nearly toppling each other over. I was expecting something big. I was NOT however, expecting this Behemoth to be as big as the entire Sahara Desert! No wonder God told Job that the Behemoth, dinosaur of the land, was His prized creation. The sand gave way & a great black claw protruded out of the edge that was forming in front of us as the sand spilled down into an endless maw.

I say maw. I had no idea.

Soon enough, Sahara reared her great head & looked at us sideways like a dolphin. Her onyx shimmering eye scanned us over. Sand still poured from her scales. After literally eyeing us for a full minute, Sahara raised her head to the sky & bellowed again. We all covered our ears (as if that helped) as she opened her mouth & belched out a wildfire such as Earth had never seen before. Sparks rained down on us as she lowered her head, mouth still partly opened. I looked into that gaping hole, flicker of red going through rows of serrated teeth (I was unsure if it was tongue or flame so I'll just say both) like a piranha. They piled up on top of each other so that one tooth was made up of a few thousand little ones; each of which was as long & thick as one of those Sequoia trees over in America

Amazingly, with that forest of enamel in her mouth, she spoke. I couldn't tell you what she said, as I know that this language was Origin. But here's a recording of the conversation that followed.

(An audio-only video link was posted.)

I asked Merlin about it later. Basically, she demanded to know who dared disturb her & said that would be the one she would eat first.

Merlin had stepped forward & had told her about himself. His age & how he lived so long as well. Sahara puffed smoke from her nostrils, then demanded what he wanted.

In the end, Sherlock's big—really big—gamble paid off. Playing into Sahara's memories of when days gone by were much better, we stayed our execution for the moment. Then the subject apparently turned to zombies. Another puff of smoke rose from her nostrils. Not good. NOT GOOD!

After finding out that Merlin was responsible for the zombies as well, she lost it. One of her feet had come down to smash us into the ground. We ran sideways as it hit the helicopter, flattening it & then the hill. Sahara climbed up the edge, roared & then launched herself forward, sand pouring down from her great black body.

Which finally brings me to the fact that I am now running for my life. Oh Harry Potter? May I borrow your Firebolt? Like NOW? HELP! Granted, that dragon he fought was a tiny thing compared to Sahara.

Anyway, so I'm still running here! "pants"

We scattered in different directions. Sherlock was the idiot with the camera by the way. It was on his mobile which happened to be in his hand so the video is actually accidental. Sahara took off after Merlin.

Obviously we got away; though, getting away from a beast like that is impossible. On a matter of technicality, she more likely allowed us to escape which worries—terrifies—me. Now I know how the mouse felt & my eyes constantly search the sky for that black horror about to swoop down on me.

Sahara had flown out of her nest, which is why there is great hole nearly down to Earth's core in place of that desert. The smoke & heat coming out of that place, warmed by the magma down there is truly hell on earth. No wonder she likes it. Sahara razed Reading to the ground in a rage on the zombie abominations as she apparently called them.

After an hour though, zombies began to rise out of the ash unharmed. Sahara then directed her fury to Merlin. He disappeared in a jet of fire that she rained straight down over his head & burned him for nearly half an hour. After releasing her jet, Merlin stood staring at her. He was still alive. Sahara backed away from him, lips curled into a snarl. She said something & then launched into the air so high she became a speck no bigger than a pinhead.

Wow, I wrote that. I can't believe how dumb I was. Comparing a dragon to the size of a pinhead is...well it's bloody surreal that's what it is!

So, Sahara's gone & Merlin's still alive. I know he's a vampire, but since we have no experience with dragon's breath, who knows if it can hurt vampires or not. For now, I'm assuming that he had merely put up some sorcery of some sort. Hey, Harry Potter has Protego. Right? Great. Now that we're all caught up, I can continue.

Merlin translated Sahara's last line for us.

"Fools! Murders! You deserve to die! Only the Sacred Wood can destroy the leader of these abominations!"

Yep. That's it. That's all we have. So, there IS a way to destroy the zombies. Now, to find out just what in the hell she meant by 'Sacred Wood'!


	5. Chapter 5

**(5) My Loss, My Love**

Merlin went to notify the Death's Hand about Sahara's instruction. Now, we're all banging our heads on it. Sacred Wood could mean anything.

First we tried the obvious ones from a simple Google search. Various blessed woods, from a Canadian Maple to a hawthorn in my own back yard. We tried a piece of wood blessed by a Catholic priest & another by a Rabbi. It only made the zombies we impaled howl even louder their frustrations while shaking slimy black fists at the vampires responsible for turning them into 'living' (tongue firmly in cheek here) shish-ka-bobs. It was funny at best to see them flailing & shrieking madly while pinned to the spot but it wasn't the result any of us wanted. Oh well, more graves for the Death's Hand Cemetery.

"heavy sigh"

Thanks Sahara. Thanks a heap!

Tempers were frayed which made Abraham even more unbearably happy as he lost it more frequently on random sorry sods who happened to be in his way. Though none of us voiced it, we all came to the secret agreement that the next piece of Sacred Wood we could find would promptly be shoved up his arse.

At the moment, I'm sitting in the backyard at Harriet's house. We had returned for a short time to collect a few things. After finishing up our coffee, we're heading back to the castle. Though Cardiff wasn't as affected by zombies as Reading was, it was still unsafe to be there for long. At least Sahara didn't decide to raze us to the ground along with Reading. We have a vampire escort just in case any zombies do show up.

Well, three hours later, I can finally finish this bit of writing. As if on cue, several zombies had suddenly arisen from the ground. I had Excalibur under my chair & though I know it won't kill zombies, at least it'll give them a hard time. Keeping my eyes down, I swung Excalibur around & cut the first zombie in half at the waist. It toppled over into two pieces & for a moment or two, simply lay there. Suddenly, both halves started slithering towards me. The top half had one hand stretched out as if trying to appeal to my better nature. When the two halves met, they melded & became whole once more.

Well, at least I tried. I continued to chop the zombies up so they had to spend more time trying to pull themselves together instead of coming after me. I eventually had the back yard full of around a hundred zombie pieces that squirmed & tried to reconnect into the forty or so actual zombies.

I watched fascinated for a moment. My worst mistake. A zombie part with a head & one arm looked up at me. Now I know why it's better to not look these creatures in the eyes. You see its history when it lived.

This particular zombie used to be a man at forty-eight years old. He had raped & killed many men & woman. He threw his own living babies into the fire as human sacrifices. He would torture any animal in his path, sometimes before & sometimes after engaging in bestiality with it. There are worse things but I won't mention them further. It's too horrible to write.

In any event, I could not break away. I had to stare into those silver orbs & live out that entire life. Then my vision went purple. I suddenly stumbled backwards & fell, Excalibur landing with a loud clang beside me. I felt drained & had a migraine. I couldn't focus on the vampire in front of me that was hissing & keeping the zombie's vision cut off from me.

"John? John!"

"What?" I glanced around. I was lying on the back porch.

"Here," the voice said. Something—Excalibur—was shoved into my hands. "Hold on to that."

I was helped to my feet. After blinking a few times I looked around but all I saw was a deep violet purple that was nearly black. Vampire wings outstretched to prevent me from making contact with zombies. They hissed & howled from behind but advanced no more. "Miss Adler," I finally saw enough to recognise who I was with.

"Hang on to me," Irene put my arm around her waist & held me & Excalibur with both hands. With a mighty stroke of her wings, we vaulted upwards. "That was a good idea to cut them up," she said as we flew over the house & landed next to the vehicle where both my sisters were already sitting inside. "I can't carry you for long by myself. We should get out of here."

I took the passenger seat as Irene drove away. As my head cleared, I finally was able to focus on something without feeling pain. Irene was wearing a halter-neck dress that left her back open for her wings which were currently tucked away, leaving her back smooth but blood-stained from the recent cutting. The dress was the same color as dried blood so it didn't matter. "I wonder why they came after me."

"Sherlock thinks its Excalibur they were after," Irene said.

"Why?"

"They seem to follow Merlin wherever he goes," Irene said. "He created them after all."

"Excalibur is part of his wing ridges," I understood. "Any advancement on that Sacred Wood?"

Irene shook her head. "Sahara didn't leave us much. Sherlock is going crazy trying to figure it out."

I laughed. "He's finally interested in the zombie case."

"Oh yeah," Irene agreed. "Now that there are more clues for him than ever before."

"Before, he didn't have Merlin," I said. "Now that we all know who Merlin is, we were able to glean a lot more information."

We eventually arrived at the castle. I brought Excalibur to their personal museum & laid it on the table in the main room. I glanced to the trap door leading down to the Watson's den & was about to go over there, when my eyes landed on the platform with the Nail. Crucifix. Right hand of ... Christ. Definitely sacred. Not wood but perhaps it still had bits of wood on it from being nailed into the cross-beam.

I blinked. Next moment, I was running like hell to the castle screaming, "SHERLOCK SHERLOCK! I GOT IT! SHERLOCK!" at the top of my lungs. I burst into the parlour, scaring Enola (don't care), my mate (honeycomb?) & both my pups (oops sorry!) at once. "I got it! It's the Nail!"

"That's iron."

"Yes. Sherlock. But think," I gasped for breath & explained.

There was one moment of eternity before we all scrambled madly back to the museum. Sherlock removed the key from above the door that unlocked all glass cases & opened the box for the Nail.

Sherlock, Mary & I soon found ourselves in London back at his old lab. Molly was now a doctor. She led us to the old familiar lab. It was changed a bit. The latest computers. A different set up of desks. It seemed bigger with desks pushed against the walls instead of in the middle of the room. After glancing around at the place where Sherlock & I first met, I took Mary out to see Lestrade.

Lestrade was now the commander of the main force in London. His job was now mostly behind the desk. Anderson & Donovan were also still on the force, but they had been transferred to lead their own divisions by now.

The moment Mary & I walked into the office, Lestrade rounded on me. "What on Earth do you think you're doing? Loosing a monster like that on the planet?"

It took me a moment to understand that for once, he was not talking about Sherlock. "You mean Sahara, the black dragon? Merlin had to talk to her."

"Is that why there's no desert anymore?" Lestrade asked. "It's all over the news!" He switched on the TV & sure enough, the main topic was 'Giant sinkhole where the Sahara Desert used be!'

I rubbed my brow with two fingers. "It was Sherlock's idea."

"I knew it!" Lestrade banged the remote down onto his desk. "I knew that pointy winged bastard was behind it somehow! I'm scared to ask but ...why?"

So I spent the greater part of half an hour explaining it all. In the end I asked, "Has there been any more zombies in London?"

Lestrade sighed before answering. "No. They all seemed to have gone on to Reading. Well, the place where Reading was. I can't believe it! Dragons!"

"She tried to destroy the zombies with her fire," I explained. "At least she tried."

"At least Reading was mostly evacuated before hand!" Lestrade grumbled. "Many people died when those things first started showing up."

"If Sherlock can find any traces of wood on that Nail," I began. "Hopefully we can put an end to this."

"Let's hope," Lestrade got up & went to the machine on a small table in one corner. He made three cups of coffee & handed two over to Mary & me.

"It might be better to find the actual cross-beams used," Mary muttered.

I looked at her. "That would be impossible. It would have rotted away by now. Besides, why would we need it?"

"Look at how many zombies there are," Mary pointed out. "A couple of microscopic splinters on that Nail won't kill them all." Lestrade & I glared at her, but could say nothing. Fact was, she was right.

"Perhaps you'll have to keep taking it back after every zombie that is destroyed," Lestrade said after drinking half his cup.

"Oh Greg," I moaned. "There has to be some easier way."

Mary put her empty cup on the table. After a long moment she said, "What if this Sacred Wood is just that? A wood, like a small forest or something?"

"What on Earth could pass for a Sacred Wood?" I shrugged. "Except maybe the garden of Ed... ...oh."

"Hmm," Lestrade hummed. "I doubt it."

"Why?" I asked.

"The way I see it," Lestrade began. "If this dragon mentioned Sacred Wood, she must have known that it's available & around somewhere. No one knows where Eden was or even if it was real. Besides, real or not, isn't there supposed to be a flaming sword guarding its gates so that none may enter? Sahara wouldn't have told you something impossible. From what you told me of her, she obviously wants the zombies destroyed as much as we do. Why would she give you information you can not use or obtain?"

"Sahara is more danger than help," I said. "I hope Merlin can convince her to go back under the desert when she has had time to calm down."

"Actually," Mary put in. "There's a piece of land missing in the Mediterranean, believed to be the Edenic Peninsula."

"Well if it's missing," I let it hang.

Lestrade was staring at Mary. "What?" Mary retorted. "I'm addicted to conspiracies & seeing if hoaxes are based in fact or not."

"This from the girl who didn't even know what Titanic was," I smirked into my coffee cup, ignoring Mary's hiss.

Mary decided to change the subject from Titanic. "You have Excalibur. Maybe if we find Eden, Excalibur will be the counter to that flaming sword." I stared at her in surprise. Strange as it was, I was beginning to wonder 'What if?'

At that moment, my mobile rang. Sherlock was calling me at last. "There is one fine splinter on it."

"Excellent!" exclaimed I.

"Hopeless," said he. "John, it is one sliver. There are over eight thousand of them. We must find a way to reuse this one piece. If it works of course."

"Mary has another theory as well," I explained about Eden. "We'll be right over." Mary & I took our leave of Lestrade & headed for the door. I hoped that during the time it took us to get over to the lab, Sherlock could find Eden in that brilliant Mind Palace of his.

I opened the door to the street for Mary to pass through. The next moment, I was holding Mary in my arms as I gently lowered her down to the floor. She was bleeding from her chest & whimpering in pain.

I Sherlock, will have to finish this entry.

Before John had time to think or even understand that someone had shot her, his wife Mary died on the scene. I had no choice but to drop the hunt for a way to destroy the zombies to take up my friend's broken heart & find her killer. I had even left the Nail behind in the lab.


	6. Chapter 6

**(6) Haunted**

I had Mary sent to the morgue. Fortunately, my other main wolf was nearby so I was able to leave John with Jacob & focus on the task at hand. I do not know what to do with John. He is beyond inconsolable. Emotional support is not my thing. I don't know why. I wasn't always like this. As a human I had been more open & even in my early days of vampirism. Maybe I'm just too damned old. I don't know & care not to know. I do know what it's like to lose a mate but I do not like to speak of it. Jacob can do better for John than I. Besides, by solving this new case, it should hopefully help John. I may be an Aspie vampire, but at least I can get the job done when needed. Better than most people!

I do not know what else to do for him but this.

Once the bullet was removed, I held it out & inspected the thing from end to end. Using one of my wingtips, I cut into the bullet to have a look at the inside.

Lestrade had scoured the area with his force & I am glad that Donovan & Anderson no longer work for him since they are useless. Now of all times, I do not need uselessness. Not for John! They had found gun powder & an empty casing in an apartment across the street. Someone had shot her from a window but was long since gone.

But I already knew something. This bullet was Moriarty's. How though I can not understand. Jim killed himself in front of me a long time ago. I had spent the next three years tracking down & destroying his followers. Every sniper set to kill Mrs Hudson, John, Molly & even one of my brothers Mycroft (even though a simple bullet couldn't harm Mycroft, it was better to destroy the sniper before he found our secret. Of course, this was before world-wide exposure. Where is my revolver?), I had personally hand fed to one wolf or another. I even fed on one myself & did not bother to turn him.

I have missed one! How could I be so stupid? But why wait ten years? Why does the past come to haunt us now, especially now since my kind as well as John's kind have been exposed?

Someone fetch me my revolver!

Jacob's mate did precisely that without even being asked. It is a good thing that the Grant wolfpack belong to the Holmes family.

Revolver hidden under my long black coat, I redid Lestrade's work over the room where the shooter was. I found a footprint by the hearth & noticed scuff marks on the doorframe as if whoever was here had ran out so fast he had to grab onto the frame to steady himself.

Hmm. Someone may have seen him. Mary's killer is definitely a guy. I can smell the cologne left over since vampires have heightened senses. Lestrade just stared at me. Silly human. Anyway, the cologne was Tiberius, for men.

I headed down the hall, following the fading scent. Lestrade & two other officers were close behind me. The young pair hung back which annoyed me since the scent of their fear of me was beginning to over-ride the faded cologne. Maybe I should nip them. That would drive them away & then I could work in peace.

Lestrade wouldn't like it though. No matter, I was in the underground parking by now anyway. The trail ended at a mark of tyre tracks on the floor.

After staring in my Mind Palace for several minutes, I finally devised a plan. "Greg, I need all the camera info on this building of the time the shooting took place. There was someone here who had seen him. Also I'll need a list of all the cars recently parked here."

Lestrade headed back for the office with his two deputies in tow. It would take him a couple of hours to go through the red tap before he would send me the video so in the meantime, I decided to retreat further into my Mind Palace.

Holding my shirt & coat in one hand, I flew straight to the castle & landed in the family cemetery. This is where it began. The first time I discovered my Mind Palace was a few thousand years ago when I sat in front of the graves of Elizabeth & the children. Their graves could no longer be seen in the meadow except by a few stone pillars erected over where they all lay. I lay on my back between the stone for my wife on my right & the stones for our three children on the left. My wings spread out over them as a covering.

I went over every last person I had killed even remotely involved with James Moriarty. Clearly this new attack was a revengeful retort, but from who? Then it hit me. The bullet wasn't for Mary. It was for John. Only reason Mary got it was because John was being a gentleman & let her pass through the door first as any respectable lady should.

I sat bolt right up, snagging my left wing over my daughter's marker. With a soft hiss, I pulled it in to inspect the tear. Once I was sure it had mended properly, I sheathed my wings & stood up. Knowing John was a target opened up a whole new list of suspects.

I started across the meadow only to meet Irene Adler just as I reached Mycroft's grave. "John isn't doing too well," she said.

"When I close this case," I began. "He'll be fine."

"Just like how you're fine right now?"

"I am, obviously."

Irene looked down at Mycroft's fresh grave between us. "Sherlock, I've been up here a while," she admitted. "I saw you lying with them."

"I needed a place to spend a longer time than usual in the Mind Palace."

"This is where it all started, isn't it?" she asked. "You discovered your Mind Palace there."

Damn. DAMN her! I looked back & stared at Esther's gravestone for a few moments. My eyes soon wandered over to my twin sons. I found Alexander's right away but could not see Dominic's. Realising my wing had most likely brushed it over when I tore it, I stalked over only to find the stone cracked in two. I glared red at it. These stone markers were all I had left of her & of them. My wings cut & drooped down into the knee-high grass behind me. I soon felt Irene's hand pressing on the joint where my left wing joined my body near the shoulder.

"We can weld it back together," she said. "I'll bring some cement glue."

"Yes," I agreed. Who was I kidding? I knew it would never be the same again.

We stood silently for several minutes. I didn't even use my Mind Palace. I merely stared at Dominic's stone, still seeing red. "What's wrong?" Irene finally asked.

Really? She can read me like a book. That's what's wrong! "What else do you know about Moriarty?" I countered instead.

We ended up discussing in depth the topic of Moriarty. Every name she mentioned I ticked off, knowing I had killed, not turned, them all. Still, all I could see was red.

"Sherlock, it isn't like you not to focus," Irene suddenly said.

"Focus? I am focused! What are you talking about?"

"Oh you are," Irene said. "Just not on me."

"You're a vampress now," I pointed out. "You know we can be nothing more than friends."

"That isn't what I meant," Irene snapped. I think. She looks mad right now anyway. "You've barely listened to a word I say on Moriarty. You're mind is somewhere else & not in your Palace. Something is wrong."

"Everything is wrong," I think I snapped as well. "Someone is targeting John. Again. I thought we were done with this."

"This isn't about John."

"Yes it is."

"You've been staring red at that broken rock since we got here & found it so!" Irene shouted at me. I took a step back. If there was one thing I knew, shouting women weren't good, especially when they were armed with venomous fangs & sharp living steel in their wing points.

"So what?" I muttered with a shrug. "One of my sons is down there. Am I not allowed to look?"

We looked anywhere but at each other for the next few minutes. Then Irene struck my heart as only she could. "We know what a zombie is now. You're angry that you found out too late of a way to save them. Aren't you?" I glared at her. "Sherlock, you know what a zombie does. Turning those children & your wife into zombies would have destroyed both you & them."

"A zombie is the epitome of what they were in life," I said. "Those creatures are victims of the Great Deluge. They were wicked incarnate. It is only natural they remained that way in death. My family were not wicked." Oh sweet Lord, have mercy. Here it comes. "My daughter was only five yet she saw things the same way I did. She had a habit of getting under my skin. Much like you do really. My sons were only three. They didn't understand that—they were—couldn't know they were dying. I could do noth—Woman! What kind of monster am I? That I could put all of them—" How I hate this! Only Irene can do this to me! Why? "All! In this very ground?" I was on my knees in front of the twins by now. I said no more. If I did, I knew I would weep like a woman.

I guess I have to take over since Sherlock would never freely admit to some things. He has to be forced into a corner. So yeah anyway, Irene here. Now we have three cases that we're working on. Sahara's riddle. Mary.

But at the moment, the only one I'm trying to fix is Sherlock. He knelt there, staring red at Dominic's broken stone. I put a hand on his slightly curled hair & softly stroked his head. I was soon kneeling down beside him. Slowly but surely, I managed to pull his head to my breast. "It isn't your fault," I said, once I had him lying down in my arms. I felt his jaws seize. I could feel the points of one of his fangs digging into my chest.

I think Sherlock once said somewhere earlier that he didn't know when he lost most of his humanity. I remember him telling me that holding on to his wife & children was the only thing that kept him as human as possible

Now however, the truth sets all free. He had become cold & unfeeling since he first discovered his Mind Palace. Right here. With them. He has hung on far too long. But I know not how to make him understand that to let go is to truly love.

John. Think of John. Somehow, I found my answer. I hope. "Sherlock, John feels the same way you do right now. Mary is gone & the only thing that will keep John going is that he knows you'll take care of whoever killed her." I pulled Sherlock's head up so I could look him in the eye. "You told me once that you put them in the ground yourself. That's the problem, isn't it? Unlike John, who has you to help him through this, you had no one back then. So you hung on to the past." I watched Sherlock close his eyes for a moment, in a slow-motion sort of blink. I did not miss those three tears. Before he opened his eyes again, I leaned in dared to kiss him once more after all these years of waiting. I pulled away & said, "Until now."

Sherlock bared his fangs in an attempt to hiss, but he didn't have the heart for it. He let his face fall into my lap. I soon felt my dress become saturated with something other than blood. I watched Sherlock's wings tremble as much as he did. Finally! The floodgate was opened at last.

We stayed there until late after dark, soon falling asleep among the stones. I woke up with Sherlock staring down at me. A half-moon lit the meadow in an eerie light. The gravestones cast ghostly shadows over the ground. But I did not see two specks of red glaring at me.

I sat up & leaned into his chest. I felt one arm land over my shoulders. "I've missed you Sherlock."

"We see each other every day," came his remark.

"That isn't what I meant & you know it!" I sighed. Honestly, what am I going to do with this idiot, handsome as he was?

"I know what you meant."

I looked up hopefully. "Do you?" We stared at each other for a moment, then he finally leaned in & kissed me as before. Ten years! It only took me ten agonising years trying to get through to him! But it was worth it. His eyes moved over to Elizabeth's gravestone & he stared silently at it, as if saying good bye. "Sherlock, a part of you will always belong to her. I will not be jealous of a memory." He finally looked back at me but said nothing. I was in the process of kissing him again, when I suddenly remembered something. Pulling away sharply I said, "Sebastian!"

"What?"

"Sebastian Moran!" I exclaimed. "He was Jim's best friend growing up. But he had been in jail for the past fifteen years. I think Sebastian just got out now."

Leaving his shirt & jacket next to Elizabeth's grave, Sherlock & I took to the air & headed for London. We paced back & forth in front of the office until Lestrade showed up, still in pj's & wearing a scowl on his face. Sherlock had called him on the way & demanded to meet up with him immediately.

Lestrade complained about trying to reach Sherlock all day without answer & now in the middle of the night Sherlock decided to show up? Where's a stake when you need one? Begrudgingly, he showed us the video of the building. The shooter only showed up as a shadow running past but a woman's face appeared quite clearly.

"She lived across the hall," Lestrade said. "I talked to her. She said she had seen someone run out & described him for us."

"Did he look something like this?" I handed my mobile over. I had dragged up a picture of Sebastian & Jim in a very old photo on Jim's facebook profile. What? I keep them on my list anyway just in case something pops up. In this type of world, you never know! Lestrade instantly pointed at Sebastian. I knew it was him.

Sherlock looked through the list of cars & soon found the one parked in the spot with the fresh tyre marks. He wrote down the license plate & then did a search to find out where it was now. Street cameras showed it to be in Cardiff.

"Harriet & Clara!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"The house is empty," Sherlock said. "But far worse is there. He might not know if he's been in jail all this time. Nothing but rumors to him."

"Those rumors are about to get very real very fast," I pointed out. Sherlock was already halfway out the door. We flew to Cardiff & landed on the dark streets. Two figures shuffled down an alley way. Zombies. Sherlock sent a quick text to the nearest Death's Hand member to go & catch them, then we trotted down the main street.

The car was parked diagonally away across the street from Harriet's home. Sure enough, Sebastian himself was lying back in his seat, with the back of it halfway down. Revolver in hand, Sherlock ripped the door right off to get at him. Sebastian reacted but was too slow for a vampire.

Sherlock tossed Sebastian to the ground & held his gun at Sebastian's head. He forced Sebastian to turn away from him & then with a quick jab of his wingtips, Sherlock disabled the man by cutting into the lower vertebrae. Sebastian could do nothing but scream; although, that was muffled since I had shoved my own wingtip into his mouth to shut him up. Together, we carried him into the air & brought him to the castle.

About an hour after dawn, we finally landed & tossed Sebastian to John who had been lying unmoving on the couch the whole time, according to Jacob who was keeping vigil over John.

"Do with him as you please wolf," Sherlock said. "He killed her."

John's eyes blazed gold so fast & so bright that I shrank in fright behind Sherlock. Next moment, John launched himself forward onto Sebastian & tore him apart. John didn't eat anything, thank God! But he made sure Sebastian stayed alive for as long as possible. When he finally died, John turned & headed outside into the garden. He was covered in blood. With a low whine that all but ripped my heart out, he lay down on the stone pathway, as listless as before. Jacob came out a moment later & lay down next to John. He began licking him clean. John was still keening softly under breath.

Now we could do nothing but wait.

_Tiberius cologne is an actual perfume made for Star Trek fans._


	7. Chapter 7

**(7) Cryptic Critter**

Well, now you know why it took so long for me to start writing again. My wife was murdered for no reason. The bullet was meant for me. It was for me! I have never let my inner wolf take full control of my human body like that before but I do not & will not ever regret it. That vile creature got what he deserved. My twins have been unusually quiet. My bed is too big for me. I'm so alone now. Not even honeycomb helped. By now, Sherlock had given up trying to feed me the stuff. I barely ate anything truth be told.

I & my twins stayed at the castle. The Nail soon reappeared in its glass case so I'm assuming Sherlock is finally going back to the zombie case. I've heard nothing on the whereabouts of Sahara since I never bothered to check on anything. All I know is that whenever I see Irene, she seems unusually happy. Her partner Katie, was here at the castle as well since she was still human.

There, that was the extent of my knowledge for the next few days.

I found Sherlock late one evening in the basement working on a metallic rod. Not really caring, I curled up on the lounge by the hearth & stared into the fire. About an hour later, one end of that rod was thrust under my nose. I bared fangs, growling.

"Manners, Watson!"

Screw manners. I just growled longer. Sherlock sat down beside me & gave me a small smack on my shoulder. I pulled away.

"Look," Sherlock pointed at the end of the rod. "I put that splinter into the tip of this rod."

I stared at the thing for a moment. "Think it'll work?"

"It's all we have."

I merely grunted. One tiny sliver of God's own cross. Great.

Sherlock laid the rod down on the floor. "Since Merlin left, the zombies have moved with him. Cardiff & Reading are both free of them. Merlin went to an unpopulated area & kept himself visible until they started showing up."

"What's left of Reading," I muttered. "You & Merlin literally had to play with fire, didn't you?"

Sherlock glared, not liking my accusing tone. I don't care! It's his fault! "We didn't make Sahara do that. It isn't what we wanted at all."

"Whatever," I shrugged.

"People are starting to rebuild Reading," Sherlock tried again.

"But who will slay the dragon?" I retorted.

"No one!" Sherlock was aghast at the idea.

"It was a figure of speech!"

We sat in silence for a few moments before Sherlock continued. "No one has even seen Sahara since that day. There is nothing we can do. Only Merlin can reason with her."

"Oh yeah, Reason!" I actually hissed. "Piss her off some more. Maybe she'll raze London next. Or the Vatican! You really should have left well enough alone."

"At least she gave us a means to destroy them," Sherlock said.

"Christ on a cross," I scowled. "I prefer Merlin's idea of moving away & letting them follow. I don't think that one little sliver can take down over eight thousand zombies. What if it gets imbedded in one of them or you lose it?"

"The thought had occurred to me as well," Sherlock admitted. "But it's all we have."

"Besides, they're Merlin's fault. Let him deal with them." Finally, I got to the heart of the issue.

Sherlock sat back, fingertips steepled & pressed together. Mind Palace. I was starting to nod off several minutes later when he spoke. "Merlin didn't put up any shield when Sahara burned him. Yet vampires can't die by fire so why would she try?"

"I think if anything gets swallowed by that beast," I began. "They should die. Did you not see the rows of teeth?"

"It would be a sad existence living as it were inside the belly of a dragon. Inside its fire."

"Maybe that's where hell is."

Sherlock shrugged. "I feel like I'm missing something."

I finally managed a weak smile. "You'll find it. You always do."

"It's safe for everyone to return home," Sherlock changed topics. "Your sisters are leaving tomorrow. Enola & Katie are already gone."

"I can't go back to that house! Not right now," I felt a panic rise in me. Go back to Mary's home? I wondered if I ever could.

"Actually Harry asked if you & the pups could go home with her & Clara for a bit," Sherlock said. "They want to—"

"—Keep an eye on me," I rolled my eyes. "I know. Figured they would."

"Why don't you leave the pups with them & come with me?" Sherlock snatched the rod off the floor. "We can try this out."

"I'll think about it," I rubbed my brow, feeling a headache coming on. "Right now, I just want to sleep."

"Sleeping's over-rated," Sherlock complained. Nevertheless, he abandoned me for the night.

The next day found me, Jacob, Enola & Sherlock standing on the front lawns of Mycroft's estate. Well Enola's now. Her white mare Serenity, trotted through a large green field towards the fence, looking for handouts. We were there to pick Jacob up to go zombie hunting. I don't really know what I'm doing here. I'm so detached from everything. But Irene insisted I go with Sherlock & so here I am, if only to shut her up.

"Enola."

"John."

Right. Whatever. While Sherlock & Enola took a few moments to catch up, Jacob came up behind me & tossed me to the ground. Snarling playfully, he pinned me down & barked. Jacob. I hate this guy. So annoying! Yet he thinks I'm his best friend. It's a love-hate relationship.

Today however, I was in no mood to tolerate him. I bit his throat so hard, he couldn't even choke. Sherlock eventually had to pull me off or I would have most likely killed him. Thoroughly cowed, Jacob slunk away & curled up in the back of the car, whimpering. Sherlock actually smacked me so hard over the head for my misdemeanour that my headache returned in full blast. He opened the front door to the passenger seat & pointed, eyes red. Not caring, I flopped down on the seat & reached for the belt as Sherlock went around to the driver's side.

I had time to hiss at Jacob behind me before Sherlock entered the car. Let me reiterate. The thing that rubs me the wrong way with this guy is that he always acts like a dog. He doesn't care to act human when human. I at least, am trying to retain as much humanity as possible. Plus, my wife was recently murdered. Give me a damn break! If I've been sounding like a man-bitch since coming back to write: tough! Deal with it. Or leave. I don't care!

We were about to drive away when Enola screamed. A zombie was rising out of the ground right before her & had made direct eye contact with her. Sherlock slammed the brakes so hard, we bounced forward before being yanked backwards by the belts even though we had been driving slow.

Jacob was the first one out. Sherlock & I grabbed the rod at the same time. I let go & jumped out of the car. Sherlock & I sprinted back to Enola.

I am suddenly grateful that Jacob retains his wolfish alter ego at all times. He launched himself onto the zombie, barking & growling. He ripped a good chunk of flesh from its right shoulder. Sherlock hoisted the rod, splinter first & threw it like a lance.

He was a second too late. There was a ripping sound & a terrified whimper of a dog in pain. Jacob landed on his back with his front split open from throat to groin. He gasped in his last few breaths & died as the zombie fell on him to tear him to pieces. With a thwunk, the rod struck the zombie's back & skewered it through Jacob's body & into the ground.

Enola, Sherlock & I held our breath for one second. Then the zombie started shrieking & howling in rage. It wasn't destroyed. But it was madder than a hornet. The three of us shared a glance, then I ran forward & yanked the rod out. The moment the zombie turned on me, I plunged the rod back in through the heart. Maybe we had to hit the heart to get rid of it. The zombie toppled over backwards, grappling at the rod. It screamed louder. Madder. But it was still...well...for lack of a better term, alive.

Sherlock threw his long black coat over the zombie's head so no one would accidently make eye-contact & then went to Enola who was still shaking. Having survived looking into the soul of the damned myself, I knew what she was going through. It would take a while for the tremors to stop. I had Merlin on my mobile list, so I called him to let him know of another zombie captured but not dead. Finally, I chanced a look at what was left of Jacob & wished I hadn't.

He lay in shreds, staining the grass red with his blood. His glassy glaze stared unseeing at the blue sky as pale as his eyes once were. I may not have liked him over-much, but I didn't want him dead either & certainly not in that brutal fashion. I looked away. Another one dead. Thinking of Mary, I fell to my knees & stared at nothing until Sherlock helped me up a few minutes later.

The next day or three, I don't quite know, past in a haze. We returned what was left of Jacob to his grieving pack. Merlin made sure there were no more zombies around Enola's estate. The great Sahara crater was still there with no sign or mention of the dragon that usually filled it.

The splinter didn't work. Sahara lied to us.

I hate dragons.

Trying Mary's idea for my sake, Sherlock had apparently spent these past few days talking to priests, rabbis, reverends, pastors—you name it he talked to it—about Edenic theory.

(Honestly John, the things I do for you.

Shut up Sherlock. People will talk!

They already do.

I'm still hoping!

Dream on, Woman! Dream on.

Oh fuck off, Irene! I'm not gay.

Yes you are.

WATSON! That is no way to speak to a lady.

Sherlock, when I see a lady, I'll let you know.

Hey John? BAM! {A link was posted to a picture of breasts. Irene's!} I dare you to post a picture of your goods on here!

Nudity is over-rated. {A picture promptly went up of Sherlock's version of the Holmes family jewels. REALLY?}

Grrrrr! I'm out. Wait. Just so everyone knows, I'm way bigger. "logs off"

Prove it! {Another picture of Sherlock's goods.}

Yeah! {More of Irene's boobs.}

Dudes! My wife just walked by! SERIOUSLY!

Greg, the Woman started it!

Jesus Christ, why do You curse me with such an agonising, annoying, vulgar little brother? William Sherlock Scott Holmes! Have you learned nothing in your millennia of life?

{Sherlock posted another porno in reply. A full frontal with wings spread out behind him.}

Well, he learned vulgarity.

{More of Irene's boobs.}

True. Enola, you're officially my favorite sibling!

YOU IDIOTS! ZOMBIES HAVE MORE BRAINS THAN THE LOT OF YOU COMBINED!)

That is definitely my cue to leave.

ANYway, moving right along past all this child pornography!

(If Mycroft were here, he'd tell them to get a room & no that would NOT mean a chatroom either.)

I still say Sahara lied to us. Merlin thinks I'm being ridiculous. But really, if the blood of Christ Himself (for there was some on that splinter no doubt) can't destroy a zombie, how much more sacred can we get?

I was currently sitting on the swing in Harriet's back yard. It seems like we're back to square one. Sherlock was inside with my sisters. Merlin stopped by for a few moments as Death's Hand had found another three zombies to capture. But he wouldn't stay. He didn't want to lead the horde back into Cardiff. It took them a while to move so as long as he kept returning to his hide out, the zombies would stay put. Unfortunately, they would also stay hidden underground around him. So he helped out when he could whenever a straggler quite literally popped up nearby.

Just as Merlin was about to leave, the sun went black. I looked up into an unusual night sky. Then my mind caught up with my eyesight & I realised I was staring at black scales. Sahara was back.

Ice cream cone in hand, Merlin came running out with Sherlock & my sisters hot on his heels. He stood beside me & looked up. Sahara pulled her head up so we could see her nose. Flicking her tongue out, she spoke. Again, here's what I got out of the translation.

"Your dead devils still infest the land."

"We have tried a sliver of some sacred wood we found. It did nothing."

"Which wood?"

"From the cross of Christ."

"Fascinating tale. Wrong era." At that, Sahara moved her head around. She was now glaring down at Sherlock & spoke to him.

"She says that you're different," Merlin translated, suddenly remembering his melting ice cream. He quickly licked at it.

"Let me guess, my Asperger's," Sherlock replied flatly.

After a moment, Sahara through Merlin said, "Yes actually. It is a gift. You see things unlike others. I will give you one last chance. Use the Sacred Wood of their era. You can bring down even their leader."

"Why did you not tell us this before?" Sherlock demanded.

"One would think it was obvious!" At that, Sahara launched herself into the air & flew so high into the sky that she yet again became a speck & then, nothing.

Where she goes, I can not say. I can say however, that Sherlock was beyond peeved to have his own line used against him. Classic! I have a picture posted on facebook so here's the link!

(A pissed off otter-glare Sherlock.)

"She flattened Reading," Sherlock muttered, lowering his mobile. "Again. She was sitting on it. Fortunately, no one was at work at the time but the scaffoldings all around the town are destroyed."

Turning away to snicker, I realised that Sahara's visit wasn't all that helpful. We were still back at square one. Also, I really don't like this 'one last chance' business either.

Like I say, I hate dragons. Cryptic critters, they are! I thought Sherlock was bad.


	8. Chapter 8

**(8) The Reality Of Fantasy**

It had been several days since Sahara's last visit. Back at the castle, we had been reviewing anything remotely related to sacred wood but had run out of options long ago. Merlin & his Death's Hand collected a few more zombies in the meantime but by now, even the zombies were starting to settle down where Merlin now was. Sunk far out of sight under ground, it was impossible to guess where they slithered off to by digging randomly.

Sherlock was antsy. He was so close yet so far in closing this oldest case ever but it seemed that time was running out & perhaps we would have to wait a few centuries to finish this, if ever.

The full moon came & went. The Grants were unusually subdued & ran to & fro, whimpering for Jacob. My wolf did much the same for Mary, with the pups close behind crying for their mother. For the first time in ages, Grants & Watsons moved as one pack, sharing our loss.

Late the next morning, I found myself stretched out on the front lawn, letting the warm summer sun soothe my body. I stared up at the sky & noticed something falling down towards me. A vampire soon swooped passed me & landed on the first step of stairs leading up to the porch of the castle. I stood up, stretched & trotted over.

"Where is Sherlock Holmes?" The man who looked no older than 25 asked.

"At the barn," I said. "I'll take you there."

We trotted quickly to the barn set far behind the castle & past the museum. Going through the main pasture helped cut the travel in half, much to the displeasure of several Destriers milling about. Sherlock was inside, re-shoeing one large fiery red Destrier named Delilah. She tossed her head at our interruption. Sherlock put in one more nail through the right front hoof & let her stand on all fours.

I stood by as the man with me went up & shook Sherlock's hand. They talked in a language I later learned to be Arabic. How many languages does Sherlock speak anyway? I guess being as old as he is, one must pick up the languages as they go through the eras. Both men made a few gestures to Delilah so I assumed the man was a visiting horseman.

Then I saw Sherlock's face change & instinct told me that horses were no longer the subject. Suddenly, Sherlock started forward, striding briskly out the door with our visitor close behind.

"John, release that mare. Then follow us!" Was all Sherlock said. I unhooked the lead rope tying her to an iron loop on the wall & slapped her rump. With an angry snort, she trotted outside.

We ended up in the lobby of the castle with Sherrinford, Irene, several of the Grants & unfortunately, her.

"John."

"Enola."

Right. Glad that's over with. Back to our visitor. Sherlock & the man who was named Ali Goldman quickly spoke Arabic to Sherrinford & Enola & then Ali left. Finally, can we get some English now?

Sherlock & Sherrinford exchanged a few words in Ingvaeonic.

Little more modern, if you please.

"John, where's your laptop?" Sherlock suddenly asked me.

I had left it in the smaller kitchen in the basement before full moon. As we all sat or stood around it, I turned it on. "What am I looking up?"

"Ali is an Israeli," Sherrinford began. "I turned him myself to save his life just over a thousand years ago." (What? I SAID he LOOKED 25, not that he was 25!)

"He just came back from a visit to Turkey," Sherlock said. "Put in 'Noah's Ark National Park in Turkey.'"

"Ok su—the WHAT?"

"Just do it," Enola growled. "Try adding 'bird's eye shape' to it."

I did so & after a while, we found it. Sure enough, there was a place in Turkey in the region of Mount Ararat. It had a 'bird's eye' landscape on one of the hills. "Sherlock, what is this?"

"The government of Turkey claims it's the petrified remains of the lost Ark," Sherlock said. "Surely you've heard of the phenomena of petrified wood before?"

"Yes," John said. "But this is the Titanic of the Bible we're talking about here!"

"Precisely," Sherlock said. "What better way to preserve it?"

"I guess so," I shrugged. "But why is it relevant?"

Sherlock exchanged a glance with his siblings, then looked at me. "Sahara said use the Sacred Wood," he began.

"Of the era!" I finished. "Sherlock!"

"If this is it," Sherlock said.

"We can kill them all!" I finished again. Wrongly, apparently.

"We have a huge problem," Sherlock corrected me.

I was about to ask why. Then it hit me. Petrified. Stoned wood. "It isn't exactly wood anymore?"

"Petrified or not, it's still wood," Sherlock said. "But the problem is war & unrest between the Muslims & Jews. There are security guards every where. We have to find a way safely into that country & get some of that Ark to destroy the zombies."

"Oh," I began. "Well if that's ALL we have to do, no biggie." Kill me now.

We had to wait three days, during which time I worried more & more about Sahara & if she would suddenly descend upon us. How much time would she allow us to screw up? There was a tour in Turkey that would take one through several famous areas of the country & it included the park on Mount Judi, part of the region of Ararat.

Sherlock & I had an argument over whether or not I should tag along since I was not a vampire & could do nothing. But I wanted to see this place for myself. In the end, it was Irene who insisted I go along if not for a distraction. None of us needed to be reminded of from what. So I left the pups with Harriet & Clara & joined the tour until it passed by the park & we had all gotten off.

Being a mortal wolf, I stayed behind at the café, but I could well see the Iranian tower in between two peaks. Ali had taken Irene, Sherlock & Sherrinford into the park itself. I could see the fog rolling in to the strange giant shape laid out on the ground. They had to move in while the guards of the tower were human. A few Iranian vampires had shifts the day before & would have instantly recognised the mist.

I stared at that immense shape on the ground from my vantage point over-looking the area. I could see the markings on the slope beyond it from where that thing had slide down due to an earthquake in the area many years ago. Inside the café were a few aerial pictures of the formation from a bird's eye view. I shivered not from cold but from my hairs standing on end in trepidation as I recalled some of the things I had read about this place in the past few days. Some accounts had said that this shape could be seen from space. One faction claimed that it was a natural formation & not a ship but Ali had put that to rest by saying it was he himself who had posted that theory on purpose to protect the place from vandals since the landscape had been recently raped before. Of course by now, it needed no such protection due to the unrest here.

My eyes again wandered to the Iranian tower as I realised that sometimes being vampire or wolf wasn't enough. I mean, the vampire guards could have told us about this place. Any chance to repel zombies once & for all would have been a great help, yet some factions still clung to their human roots. Which normally, I wouldn't mind but seriously with zombies about, one would think they would rise above the unrest. Oh well.

I eventually went back to watching the mist roll in & descend upon one part of that ghost ship. Was it really the Ark that nearly every culture spoke of? I had grown up thinking it was an allegory. Then again, I had grown up thinking vampires & werewolves & now, dragons, belonged in Harry Potter, not in real life.

Like I've said before, my entire life had been turned upside-down ever since I first met this guy.

(A picture of Sherlock standing by the window playing his violin.)

About forty minutes or so later, the 'weather' had cleared & I found myself following after the necropolis of vampires (for that is what a group of these walking blood-bags are called) quickly but calmly exiting the area. We walked down the road in silence, keeping an even pace.

Abraham was waiting for us with a van. The back of the van was enclosed & had no windows. There were two rows of seats, the front with the driver's & passenger, then another row right behind it but behind that was an empty area without the windows. Sherlock, Irene, Ali & Sherrinford entered inside that area while I stretched out on the back seat.

"ABOUT TIME!" Abraham was quick to complain. "DO YOU HAVE ANY" (amazingly he whispered the next few words) "idea how dangerous this is?" (But then he went back to shouting.) "SITTING HERE WAITING FOR YALLS! I OUGHT TO SKEWER YOU ON MY WINGS!" He continued complaining as he drove us out of that area.

Glancing into the depths of the van behind me, I saw Sherlock & the others pull some poles out from under their coats & lay them down on the floor. Sherrinford tossed a blanket over them & sat back against the side on the floor nearby.

"Are those ...?" I stared.

"Bits of that Ark?" Irene finished. "Quite right."

I could do nothing but whistle as Sherrinford finally lost it on Abraham. "Less complaining, more driving! Get us to that ship now!"

"You just came from a ship!" Abraham complained.

Sherrinford rolled his eyes while Irene & I snickered. Sherlock said one word, "Obviously."

Abraham eventually shut up as we neared the sea & drove the van right onto his brother's ship, the Lucky Wing. We had made one stop on the side of the road beforehand. The van was searched quickly before being allowed near the water but the stakes pulled out of the Ark were long since buried inside the floor of the van itself & we pretended to be a group of partiers about to join some birthday fun on board. Mark had already set the outer deck of Lucky Wing into a festive mood & we could hear the steel drums from here.

To help our ruse, we had even ripped up some wrapping paper that we had bought at a nearby shop earlier & scattered it around the van & also put a hat on the birthday guy.

(A picture of Sherlock wearing a yellow & green hat & looking miserable.)

If I die any time soon, I'll die happy knowing I have that picture nicely saved a few times over in places Sherlock will never find. It's been a while since I've had a good laugh. Even better if the joke's on Sherlock!

(No. It isn't!

What's wrong ... birthday boy?

The date is no where near my birthday. Besides, birthdays are over-rated.

Sherlock with you, everything's over-rated, even Noah's Ark.

This is true.

ACK! He admits it! Grr!)

Right. Moving on. Once back in friendlier waters, we finally took the stakes out. At last, I held in my hands a piece of that fabled ship. I immediately imprinted without thinking.

_Several hours later_

I awoke to find myself on British shores with Sherrinford, Irene & Sherlock staring down at me. Slowly, I sat up.

"Did you imprint that?" Irene finally asked.

I nodded mutely. Then I barked once & shook my head, trying to clear up the jumbled images. With Titanic, I had passed out for as long as it took to sink. I saw the entire thing as it happened in something akin to a dream. The maiden & only voyage of the Ark was a lot longer, just over a year, but since I had more control over imprinting, I had learned to speed up the process. But the jumbled up images I would get from longer eras involved with imprints would give me a headache until I sorted it all out.

(A few weeks later when I was finally able to sort it all out, I wrote a separate article which can be found here: "link posted to another page of the blogs"

But for now, the tale at hand: )

Sherrinford passed me some honeycomb to help distract my mind. Sherlock handed a stake over to me & then led the way up to where we had left the car the day before.

Now, finally, it was time to rid the world of zombies once & for all.

_Based upon an actual location in Turkey. I know someone who had seen the area._


	9. Chapter 9

**(9) Death Of A Legend**

Several bits of the Ark had been stolen (don't worry, it's for a good cause & if we can, will bring them back) that day. But after considering how many zombies there were & how many vampires were eager to join the hunt, the number of stakes seemed inconsequential. In the end, it was decided that Abraham, Merlin, Sherrinford, Irene, Ali & four others would each have one stake. Sherlock also had one which he let me hold since I needed more protection from zombies then he did & he had insisted I stay with him.

Now, it was time to find the zombies. The problem was, they had gone more or less dormant again. There had only been two sightings in the past few days. Good. So long as Sahara doesn't hear of multiple zombies, maybe she won't show up & reign down her hellfire on our heads. Where is that thing anyway?

After one day of fruitless searching, Sherlock & I decided to visit our old haunt for a while. I soon found myself strolling through London in the early evening once more. It took us nearly two hours, but eventually we went past 221B Baker Street, or whatever was there in its place now. Turns out a large condo had gone up instead.

Sherlock & I walked by in silence & continued around the corner. Suddenly, Sherlock's mobile began ringing. It was Lestrade & he had a zombie trapped in the kitchen.

At last!

We hurried to Lestrade's home & stepped into a nightmare.

Lestrade did indeed have one zombie trapped in the kitchen, but a few of its companions had arrived just moments before we did. Lestrade's wife was under the table with one of the boys while his other son was locked away upstairs in the bedroom & couldn't get down since two zombies were on the stairs. A fourth zombie had cornered Lestrade in the living room. I handed the stake I shared with Sherlock over to him.

Sherlock heaved the stake at the zombie & it went straight through the heart from back to front. Lestrade stared blankly ahead & I knew he had seen into the zombies black soul. Sherlock & I actually clasped hands as the stake hit with a dull thud. The zombie staggered & spun around. It wailed like the wind at us, then stupidly looked down & blinked as if it just noticed the piece of Ark sticking through it. Slouching, the zombie scrabbled at it before falling over on its side. It howled in a painful rage.

"It's hurting him!" I cried in excitement.

"Yes but it isn't killing him!" Sherlock huffed, tossing his coat & shirt aside. "We're missing something but at least we're finally on the right path."

"What do you think we're missing?"

"Not sure yet," Sherlock cut his wings. "No time. I have to get that thing away from Greg. You get the family out & take the stake."

I nodded as Sherlock launched himself forward. By now, the zombie had flopped around like a fish out of water & managed to glare up at Lestrade as if it was all his fault. With lightening speed, it had suddenly jumped on its feet & ran at Lestrade.

With a sickening crunch, zombie hit vampire wing. Yes that is how I'm putting it. That monster was so set on destroying Lestrade that it ran right into Sherlock's sky-blue wing as he had swung it down to cut the zombie to pieces.

Snarling viciously, Sherlock moved in between the zombie & Lestrade. His glare blazed red as he suddenly spun around & using his wings, he sent a wave of compressed air which shoved the zombie back. The zombie squealed in rage but he couldn't get a grip on Sherlock. I knew it was all either of them could do, since zombies couldn't hurt vampires & so far as I've seen, vampires had little effect on them as well, apart from making them furious.

With Lestrade's vision now broken, I was able to pull him away. We managed to get him & his wife with one son outside in the back yard. I went back in to fetch the other boy. The hissing & shrieking from Sherlock & the zombie was nearly giving me a headache. I knew by now that neither could even touch each other. The only reason why it had happened the first time was because the zombie was focusing its intent to harm on Lestrade, not Sherlock. Now though, there was nothing to do but exchange a battle of vocals.

A stake came flying in my direction & I caught it, then threw it at the higher of the two zombies on the stairs. It landed squarely in the chest, toppling the zombie over. It came tumbling down, taking out the second one on the way by. Both screeched indignantly but I kept my eyes on the stairs. With canine grace, I leapt over the pair scuffling about on the floor, grabbing the stake as I went by. I hurried upstairs & helped the other boy out the window by lowering him down to Lestrade below.

"I got them Sherlock!" I came sprinting back down, bowling over the pair that had recently gotten up. They hissed at me & tried to grab me. I held out the stake, making them recoil in pain.

Sherlock eventually rounded up the four of them & locked them in the kitchen. I handed over the stake & Sherlock brandished it at them. They recoiled, screaming. I clapped my hands over my ears.

Hissing through his fangs, Sherlock threw the stake again. It sailed through the air & landed in the chest of one zombie which fell over, shrieking. With a quick bound, Sherlock retrieved the stake & held it once more. The zombies focused on it more than on him. So it was having an effect, but why wasn't it killing them? We left them locked in the kitchen & called Merlin to send someone from Death's Hand to box them up.

Now, we were back to square one.

Everyone with a piece of the Ark gathered at the Holmes castle. We passed Sherlock's stake around, examining it, trying to figure out what exactly was missing. We were however, all at a loss.

I curled up with the pups that night in my king sized bed. The Watson Weres picture gleamed in a ray of moonlight & nearly seemed alive. I fell asleep much later than the pups & it wasn't until late the next morning that I finally went into the belly of the castle looking for everyone.

"Any luck?" I asked Sherrinford.

He shook his head. "None." Then he nodded in Sherlock's direction. "He's been like that all night. I've never seen him in the Mind Palace for this long."

"I have," I waved it away & made myself comfortable in an armchair. "Frequently."

"He'll figure it out," Sherrinford said. He sipped a wine goblet full of blood before going on. "He always does."

"I just hope Sahara doesn't come back before then," I muttered.

"I can't believe you idiots woke that monster up!" Sherrinford hissed.

"You know Sherlock."

"Yes but you & Merlin were both with him," Sherrinford pointed out. "You should have made him behave."

"You know that's impossible."

Sherrinford just growled. But he knew I was right. After another hour, during which I had breakfast with the pups, Sherlock finally came out of the Mind Palace. He came onto the front porch to find me stretched out on the lawn in the sun, my one canine habit I found I liked & so kept throughout my human time.

"We should go," Sherlock said, leading the way to the car. Knowing I wouldn't get any further explanation, I followed, leaving the pups behind with Sherrinford.

We drove for a long while. I had eventually slunk over the top of the seat into the back to stretch out & sleep. I needed to regain my strength for the next full moon, my second one in a row without Mary. I noticed the stake from the Ark lying on the floor before I nodded off.

Sherlock woke me a while later. I got out of the car & noticed we were way in the wilderness. There was a ragged shack nearby. Hands in pockets, Sherlock led the way while I carried the stake. I knew he had figured it out, but I didn't know why we were here, or where.

Without knocking, Sherlock went inside. I followed & ended up sitting beside him on a small two-seat couch. The other piece of furniture around was a tiny table with one chair. The walls were made of shelved filled with books written by hand. Diaries perhaps.

"Sherlock," I finally asked. "Where are we?"

"Merlin's hide out."

I paled. The majority of the zombie horde would be here, slithering & humping around like worms under the ground. I pulled my feet up onto the couch, tucking them underneath me. "Why here?" I tried to ask in as normal a voice as possible.

"I need to test a little theory on Merlin," Sherlock stood up, tossing his coat & shirt into my lap. He cut his wings & began stretching them out. Eventually he curled one wing forward & caught the point in his teeth. He began gnawing on it with his fangs & I realized with a bit of amusement that I was witnessing a vampire preening.

He was sharpening not only his wing ridges but also his fangs as well. The soft rasping of enamel on liquid steel was almost hypnotic. I watched as Sherlock would tug on one part here & lick at another part there. Occasionally, he would pause & glare red at some particular spot, even wrinkled his nose as if he was about to hiss at one area before going back to chewing on his wings. Eventually, he uncurled the wing, only to curl the other one & begin the same process. That one he ended up hissing at least three times until he finally smoothed a stubborn spot down to his satisfaction. I had a better view of what he was doing on this wing & I noticed something that made my scruff-hairs rise. He would spread the blood oozing out of the sores along each wing ridge, polishing them & licking up the rest. When he finished, he stood gazing out the window, letting his wings droop down.

Glancing down, I noticed that the floor was stained from days gone by & wondered if Merlin himself preened here. I had to ask. "You drink your own blood?"

Actually amused, Sherlock turned to look at me. "Not in the same way I'd drink someone else's. It doesn't feed me but it's mine so I might as well keep as much as I can. Besides, I only lick at it when I'm preening. Or injured."

"I'm so glad I'm a wolf right now," I tried not to gag.

Sherlock smirked at me, quick & fleeting. "I recall quite clearly that you hated the very idea of it when you first found out."

"Oh shut up!" I pouted.

A shadow flitted past the window & the next moment something landed on the porch. The door opened & then everything went wrong. It was Merlin returned home but the moment he had opened the door, Sherlock ... attacked him. Wings spread out & curled forward, Sherlock ploughed into Merlin & both went tumbling into the grass.

"SHERLOCK NO!" I screamed at him, jumping up & running outside. "ARE YOU CRAZY? THAT'S MERLIN!" How in the hell could Sherlock, of all people, screw up so badly?

I stopped dead in my tracks, expecting ash to float by. Instead, I saw Merlin sprawled on his back with Sherlock on top of him like a panther pinning his prey to the ground. Merlin's wings were spread flat out behind him. Sherlock's wings were both curled & pointed directly at Merlin's heart. Sherlock was straining to push them down but they had come within an inch of touching Merlin's flesh, but thankfully went no farther.

Sherlock eventually stood up & after a moment, Merlin pushed himself up. He quickly folded his golden wings over his chest protectively & glared red. "You intended to kill me just now."

"You had no chance to put up any enchantment since I surprised you," Sherlock replied. "I can't touch you with intent to harm, Merlin. I wonder why?" The question was sarcastic. Sherlock knew why.

"I don't know," Merlin hissed. "But I'm grateful you couldn't. What were you thinking, you idiot?"

Wrong choice of words. Sherlock's eyes blazed red at the insult. After a stare-down, Sherlock began talking in Ingvaeonic & I saw Merlin's face change from a stern glare to one of sadness. He let his wings slowly fall to his sides.

Merlin turned away & stared at the car. Then he came back & pushed past me to enter his shack. I followed him, being sure to keep myself between the vampires, stupid as it was. "I never ... never thought ..." Merlin stammered, staring at his writings crammed into all the shelves. "Didn't consider that ... maybe... you know, it makes sense though."

"Merlin, what are you talking about?" I asked, glaring at Sherlock has he pushed past me & went to the couch. He picked up the stake.

"Before you do, I have something for your wolf," Merlin said, walking to one of his shelves. He handed me another Spellbook. "That's about imprinting. Instructions to control & even erase some of them."

"Thanks," I nodded as Merlin went to another shelf.

He pulled off two more bound books & handed them to Sherlock. "That ought to help you learn Origin. Maybe you can convince Sahara to go home."

"Do you know where she is right now?" I asked.

"Of course," Merlin was almost insulted. "She's where any dragon would be when flying about. The moon. What do you think caused those three big craters that make the face we see here? Asteroids indeed!" He scoffed & turned back to Sherlock. "Most of my older writings are in Origin. You should move this stuff to your museum & when you have learned Origin, you can study the other spellbooks. Who knows, with any luck, you can take my place as the most powerful sorcerer in the world."

"Thank you. I will," Sherlock said. There was an awkward moment as I glanced between them but before I could speak, Merlin broke the silence.

"It's alright," Merlin said. "I've seen far too much. I've often thought about maybe not seeing any more. Will, I'm about seven thousand years old. I need this, believe it or not. Besides," He smiled quickly. "Maybe it's my way of ...atoning."

"Most likely is," Sherlock returned the smile, oddly enough. Merlin raised his wings on high & looked up towards the ceiling, then closed his eyes.

In a blink, the stake was in his chest, right through his heart. I don't remember hearing or saying it, but apparently I had screamed Sherlock's name even louder than before. I do remember feeling his grip on me as I tried to reach Merlin to free him. I couldn't save him & Merlin turned to a white statue that bore every detail of his likeness. The wings remained gold. (Sherlock put a spell on the area so no, you can't mine the place you vandals! "smug glare")

Noah's wood turned to ash & pooled around Merlin's white stone feet.

I couldn't believe it. Merlin was gone. Part of my mind tried to tell me he deserved it. He cursed the world with both vampirism & zombification. But I knew he wasn't all bad. Besides he did try to help us whenever possible. I hated Sherlock. Why did he do that?

For that matter, why did the Ark work? It was supposed to be a wing ridge from another vampire or a Lycan bite that would kill a vampire. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I stood dumbly, staring at Merlin's statue. Finally, I said to Sherlock. "Sahara said you could kill even the leader of the zombies with the Sacred Wood. Merlin created the zombies. Accidently or not, he's responsible for them." After a long moment, I added. "He was their leader. That's why they followed him. That's why zombies are hurt & terrified by the wood. They know it could destroy their leader & that's why you couldn't spear him with your wings since, though he was vampire the curse of the zombies fell on him to since he's their creator ... ...right?" Please God! Make him tell me I'm right.

"Mostly," Sherlock said. "Zombies were linked to him which is why they followed him around. Take Merlin out," Sherlock held up his mobile as he began to receive a few texts. He showed me one from Abraham.

'The zombie just turned to goo in front of me. They're dead. Literally!'

"Take them all out," I finished.

Leaving Merlin's white statue to shine in the ray of sun coming in through the window, Sherlock & I stepped outside. As we headed for the car, the land belched out black blood as the zombies beneath finally died. We could hear the wailing of wind as they disintegrated in terror ... or anger ... or both.

The sky went black once more. Sahara hovered over us & looked down. She swung her gaze from us to the oozing black blood. It seemed as if she nodded her head before flying off. Later, every news channel spread the word. The Sahara Desert was back in place. The beast had gone home. We got into the car & left.

Sherlock had done it. He had closed a case 4400 years old. The statue of Merlin stood throughout time as witness.

When next I beheld Excalibur, the blade had turned pure white save for a bar of purest gold running down the center from hilt to tip.

_~The end._

_OK, that was lame. This is the result of rushing to write something on request while reading the 4 books of Eragon. Yep. LOL _


End file.
